


Vow of Silence

by Aelimir



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Telepathic Bondage, Telepathic Sex, slave!fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-09-04
Updated: 2011-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-23 10:18:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 68,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelimir/pseuds/Aelimir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. All mutants were enslaved during a Holocaust. (no Jewish Holocaust) Shaw killed Erik's parents but let Erik go, believing him human when he showed no outward signs of mutation. Erik sets out on a quest of revenge. One night, he meets a compelling mutant with big blue eyes, enslaved in a brothel, launching him on a journey of love and discovery he never expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Those Blue Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Bed of Silence (inspired by)](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/5191) by Rosemary. 



Vow of Silence

Those Blue Eyes

Erik Lehnsherr, clad in his gray trench coat and hat, strode down a narrow and shady alleyway, his worn shoes barely making a sound in the dirt. He glanced around inconspicuously as he progressed, clearly searching for a place unfamiliar to him. His blue-green eyes gleamed with satisfaction as they caught a faded sign with black letters: "Bart's Leathers." Without further ado, Erik opened the door to the windowless shop and ventured inside.

A tall, thin man with dirty blond hair and brown eyes greeted him. "What can I help you with?"

"I was told you do some special work on the side," Erik informed him meaningfully, breathing in the smell of all the leather products that now surrounded him.

"Yes, that," the leather man said, a bit hesitant.

"I'd like to see it for myself," Erik prodded. "Do you have samples?"

"Yes, well...they might take some time to get together," the blond man admitted.

Erik smiled, pleased. "Take your time."

The man looked at him askance, but not getting an explanation, left through another door. Erik took a moment to take inventory, the man's metal belt buckle bright in his mind. Concentrating, he could sense a few other metal pieces moving around another room. More people, then. He had to keep tabs on all of them.

Erik strode behind the counter, perusing all the paper documents he could find, the mail, the notepads, the receipts, looking for any link to the government. His frown deepened as his search continued. Abruptly he straightened everything out and hurried back to his original spot, sensing the metal buckle approaching again.

"Why don't you come back with me," the man invited, coming into view.

Erik gave a short nod and followed him, unsurprised to find the back room full of guns, knives, and strange looking electrical devices.

"We're a fully stocked facility, as you can see," the man said, gesturing around to the various weapons and other things that Erik was unsure of the use of.

"I don't need details, but what is your business?"

"Freeing," said Erik, carefully gaging the man's reaction. If the man had a tie to the mutant enslavement enforcer Shaw, as he was told, something as illegal as that would surely pique the man's interest in him.

"Ah, well. That'll cost you extra. Those implanted, power suppressing chips are not easy to deactivate. The proper device is very hard to get a hold of and we only have a few of them."

"Money is no object," said Erik, knowing that was poor bargaining form. Good thing, then, he was less interested in bargaining and more interested as coming across as a troublemaker.

"In that case, why don't we go ahead and settle up. I can have the items delivered, if you wish. More discreet that way," the man offered.

"No need. Just passing through," said Erik, still intently studying the man's reactions. "I wanted to make sure you'd be able to supply my future operations."

"I will do my best to meet your needs."

"Thank you, Mr. - "

"Oh, I'm afraid none of us uses names. Professional courtesy, you know," the man chided.

Erik gave a short nod. "I'll be seeing you."

"Whenever is convenient," the man agreed easily.

Erik turned and left the shop. He walked briskly down the rest of the alley, quickly glancing behind him every so often to make sure he wasn't being followed. To his disappointment, he wasn't.

Fuck, Erik thought. He didn't take the bait. Another dead end. He would hang around for a day or two to make sure, but after months going on years of playing detective, he doubted he was wrong. It seemed his goal of avenging his parent's deaths would be delayed yet again. Shaw was a slippery bastard as well as a senseless murderer.

Erik entered the first bar he came to, inundated with the smell of smoke the moment he opened the door. He ordered a German beer and sat down at a small table with it, picking up the paper and reading it for appearances. It only commanded half of his attention, however. With the other half, he searched for someone at least moderately attractive who he might be able to pick up. At least then, the night night not be completely wasted.

No one immediately caught his eye, but the night was young, so he decided to wait, refocusing on the paper in front of him. The main headline read "World Slave Council Debates Sterilization and Reinstating Death Penalty."

Today the WSC convened again, discussing the highly controversial topics of sterilization and reinstating the death penalty, which has not been in practice since eliminating all adult mutants in the Mutant Holocaust fifteen years ago. William Stryker, a supporter of both causes, cited many instances of violence and crime from mutants who proved to be more difficult than usual to safeguard humanity from. He urged the Council to "Open your eyes and realize that mutants are a ticking time bomb, a threat that needs to be wiped out completely. Enslaving them all is not enough. We will never be able to rest easy until no more mutants walk the earth." Those opposing him believe that to go to these extremes are inhumane, and without evidence of any significant uprising, completely unnecessary.

Erik nearly snorted at the idea that the WSC was concerned about being inhumane.

"I know," said a voice behind him. "Ridiculous, innit?"

Erik turned his head to look at the speaker, a blond haired, blue eyed man of average build. Seeing Erik's acknowledgment, he needed no further encouragement to take the seat across from him. So much for finding an attractive partner. "That WSC doesn't care about mutants or humans. It only cares about money. If Stryker can get his cause passed, his military division will have access to all the funds he can dream of. If it doesn't, then those opposing it will be happy because their investments are protected."

Erik set down his paper, finding the man only mildly more interesting. Seeing this, the man continued.

"If the government was really acting in the interests of the people, they wouldn't have just killed the adults during the Holocaust. They should have wiped out the lot of them instead of enslaving all the young survivors. But no, they had to find an excuse to keep taxing us, so here we are, years later, the problem still on our hands and our money out of our hands!"

"I don't trust the government either," Erik admitted. "They make lethal mistakes. I know for a fact that humans got mistaken for mutants and were slaughtered with the rest of them!"

"Incompetent fools," the man chimed in.

"They should never have mass murdered the mutants like they did. They should have gone slower, gave them all trials - "

"You sound pro mutant," the other man mused suspiciously.

"I'm not pro mutant. I'm not anti mutant. I'm anti government, especially fools like Shaw," Erik ground out. In this case, only Shaw, but he had no wish to make his vendetta so obvious.

"You can't refuse to not be for or against. It's either, or," the man insisted.

"I have no reason to choose a side. I understand the danger they present, but I have also never witnessed them doing anything other than attempt to protect their families," argued Erik. He could certainly understand that. He wished, more than once, that he could do more than sense metal. Then, maybe he would have been able to stop the bullets that killed his parents as he was forced to watch.

"So you've had a lot of contact with them, then? Never did much myself. Can't afford it, obviously, and wouldn't anyway. It's like playing with fire, yanno."

"No, I've barely had any close contact," said Erik. "That's why I haven't formed an opinion. I don't believe what the government says."

As the other man continued to debate with Erik, he gave up the idea of picking someone up. He sat tensely, his hands gripping his armrests. The topic of discussion darkened his mood considerably, driving away what charm he possessed to win anyone over. As soon as he could, Erik made an excuse and left, leaving money for his drink. He strode out in an angry haze, not paying attention to where he was going.

He shifted his focus from his musings to his surroundings in attempt to ease his mind, aware again of the crunch, crunch of gravel beneath his feet, the cool evening air, and the darkening of the sky. He glanced at the street sign - Cass, it said. He frowned, pulling his rumpled map from his pocket. It was heavily marked with red ink, little x's made here and there. All the places he'd inquired about Shaw and had hit a dead end. He searched for Cass. It wouldn't do to get lost, and waste even more time. Finding it, he decided to go back to his hotel. The crinkling of the paper was really loud in the relative quiet, and he glanced around, wondering if he'd caught anyone's attention.

A worn red and blue wooden sign caught his eye: Exotic Pleasures. Reading between the lines, he realized it was one of those brothels which offered enslaved mutants. Like he'd told the man at the bar, he'd never had close contact with a real mutant. He'd seen, them, sure, but never for very long, and certainly not in this setting. He paused by the wooden blue and red door, considering the windowless building thoughtfully. Here was his chance to find out for himself what they were like. He had the money, plenty of it, from his inheritance. Decision made, he shoved one hand in a pocket, and used the other one to push open the creaky door, the wood rough against his calloused palm.

Warm air greeted him, chasing away the chill in his bones. Erik tried to shut the door, but it wouldn't latch until he shoved at it firmly with his shoulder. A strange mix of smoke, flowers, and perfume filled his nostrils, and he blinked his eyes in the bright light, taking in his surroundings. He was in a short hallway of some sort. Further down, he could see a long lineup of people - mutants - chained to a wall. He dithered a moment longer, glancing between the mutants, a few of which were now staring at him in interest, and the door. A pretty blond, scantily clad in white, caught his eye as he glanced back uncertainly. She smiled at him and beckoned him forward encouragingly.

Erik shoved his other hand in his pocket, his discomfort easing. While he'd been in brothels before, the prostitutes had certainly never been chained and it had thrown him for a moment.

"Hey sugar, aren't you a handsome one?" Blondie smirked seductively as Erik strode out of the hallway and into easy earshot.

"Emma, wait your turn," chided a male voice behind Erik.

Erik spun around and faced a short, fat, bald man wearing a gaudy blue and red shirt, "Exotic Pleasures" lettered across the front, and black jeans barely held up by a belt. Erik thought the whole effect was rather hideous.

"Name's Pilas," said the man, smiling. His breath stank of smoke. "Haven't seen you before, are you new in town?"

"Just passing through," explained Erik.

"Ever been with a mutant?" asked Pilas.

"No," admitted Erik.

"We have quite a lineup here for you then! Most of the mutations are inhibited by those wonderful chips, but we do have a few here with some interesting physical ones if you're into that sort of thing."

Erik shifted and glanced away, rethinking his desire to be there.

"Why don't I just introduce you to all of them?" Pilas said hurriedly. He didn't want to lose this client. The ones that usually came here were a bit seedy and Erik wasn't, he could tell. Despite his worn appearance, he clearly came from money. Pilas was trying to attract more respectable clientèle from the upper class. If Erik had a good time, he might spread the word.

Erik gave a short nod, and Pilas led him to the start of the line. Emma once again encouraged him to pick her, and he gave her a brief smile, undecided. He eyed the other mutants as they were introduced, some eager, some refusing to face them, clearly not wanting to be there. None of them caught Erik's interest. They now were near the end of the line. Maybe he'd just pick Emma. At least she was pretty and willing.

A short one with dark hair glanced at him reluctantly as they came near. In that brief instant, their gazes met, Erik's breath catching in his throat, the mutant's big blue eyes drawing him in, shock reverberating in his being. Clearly startled too, the mutant did a double take, and they stared at each other, oblivious to Pilas rattling on about another mutant. Gazes locked, Erik tried to speak, but realized he wasn't breathing, taking in the mutant fully, dressed in tight, white jeans and shirt, a reflection of the strange, boyish innocence he projected that was jarringly out of place in their current surroundings. An unnameable, unfamiliar feeling welled up in Erik, and he forced himself to breathe.

"Ah, this one," said Pilas, finally realizing where Erik's attention had drifted to. "He's not the most eager of them, truth be told. I save him for the ones who like things rough. He will never do anything unless ordered and forced to. Emma will give you a better time."

"This one," insisted Erik, finally able to speak, not swayed by the owner's description of him. He turned away from him, and paid up at the counter by the hallway while the dark haired one was led away. "What is his name?" asked Erik as their transaction was completed.

Pilas gave him a wry look. "We don't know," he admitted, annoyance clear in his tone. "He doesn't speak, and he never smiles, and nothing we've tried will persuade him to. So we let our customers call him whatever they like while they're with him. We just call him the stubborn one, and everyone knows who we mean."

Erik just nodded and let himself be led into a back room, barely taking in the blue and red decor on the walls as they wove through a few brightly lit hallways, passing several doors. He wondered, vaguely, at what he was doing. He'd never been into men before, and he already knew the mutant wasn't willing, so why did he pick him anyway? He certainly had no plans on forcing him. The owner left him alone at the door. Erik entered, closing it behind him, taking in the large bed, the luxurious white bathroom, and various whips, rods, and other cruel looking objects around the room that he had no intention of using.

Then he caught sight of the man chained to the bed and devoted all his attention to him, who, true to the owner's prediction, hadn't said one word and wasn't smiling, not even meeting Erik's eyes. There was something lost, sad, and weary in his expression, in the way he held himself, in the way he let his hair fall into his eyes without bothering to fix it. Erik cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly. "Hello," said Erik. He approached the bed like he was trying to approach a scared horse, hands slightly outstretched, steps careful and measured. It wasn't a bad analogy from the man's expression, which tensed as he grew closer. Erik sat down on the edge of the bed, locking gazes with him, attempting to keep his posture non-threatening. Then the mutant dropped his gaze to his lap, and waited in a submissive, defeated posture.

Clearly he expected to be forced into it. Erik waited several minutes, hoping he would warm up to him, his heart beating faster than normal at the thought of the mutant coming out of his shell, coming onto him. He bowed his head and tried not to fidget with the silky blue comforter, focusing instead on the candles lit on a long shelf on the opposite wall, providing the primary source of light, the scent of flowers in the air that didn't quite cover the smell of smoke, and the overly bright red of the fluffy carpet beneath his feet. Unable to help himself, he occasionally glanced at the handsome mutant, hoping for an improvement.

The mutant didn't relax. Erik thought he caught the mutant looking at him in the corner of his eye, sad, wistful, longing, but it was so quick he couldn't be sure. He almost seemed - lonely, as strange as that sounded, considering where he lived.

Erik waited a little longer, then sighed inwardly. He had no idea why he'd thought the mutant would be willing for him when he apparently was unwilling for everyone else. Perhaps he had just imagined that the mutant felt something for him when he'd stared at him earlier. "I'm not into rape," he said. "So I'll just - go, and you can enjoy your time off."

The mutant looked up at him, his eyes wide and frozen in shock and disbelief.

Erik had surprised even himself with those words. He'd paid for his time, he had every right to make use of it, and it wasn't like he had any kind of love for mutants. As someone who considered his life's ultimate goal was to commit murder, he hardly considered himself a compassionate philanthropist of any sort. But there was something about this one. He just couldn't do anything to hurt him, couldn't sully that boyish, vulnerable innocence that shone from him. So he gathered himself to get up and leave the mutant in peace. He had a bit of time left, maybe he could do a quickie with one of the eager ones. Emma, perhaps.

A touch on his shoulder, soft as a butterfly's wings, made him stop. He turned back to the mutant expectantly. What could he possibly want?

Erik found himself locked in the mutant's gaze of pure wonder, his eyes large and intensely blue. Erik swore he felt his heart swell impossibly large. The sheer intensity of the emotion there sucked Erik in, driving everything else from his mind. The mutant eased off the bed, kneeling in front of him, chains clinking loudly with his every movement.

"I'm not going to force you to do anything," Erik insisted, heart thudding at the possibility of what might happen next. "I can just find someone else."

The mutant's expression relaxed, now thoughtful and soft. Erik waited, scarcely breathing, unable to look away, wondering what was going through his mind. The barest hint of a smile touched the kneeling man's still weary eyes as he grasped Erik's belt and waited. For permission, Erik guessed.

"You want this," Erik confirmed. The mutant nodded. "Okay," Erik acquiesced, growing hard already at the realization. Having all that intensity directed at him was very arousing. And, didn't his owner say he never did anything unless ordered? The thought that this mutant was doing something out of the ordinary, just for him, warmed him in a way he wasn't used to feeling. This feeling of connection, then, it wasn't all just in his head.

The mutant undid his belt and his pants, sliding everything down just enough with Erik's cooperation so he could grasp Erik's cock. Erik spread his legs wide, breathing heavier in anticipation. The mutant stroked steadily with his smaller, soft hand until Erik was fully hard and aching. His hands were gentle, almost uncertain, but clearly experienced by how effective he was in his technique. He watched Erik's reactions, quietly cataloging what he liked and repeated it, the wondering, thoughtful look never quite leaving his eyes.

Then he sank his mouth onto Erik's cock.

Erik moaned, unable to help himself, jerking slightly at the sensation, grateful that his legs were long enough to reach the floor and balance him. Otherwise he might have fallen off the bed and embarrassed himself. He resisted the impulse to grasp the mutant's head, instead clutching at the bedspread. He didn't want him to feel forced or trapped in any way. But god, if he could just only make him suck harder, the heat, wetness, and suction, so good but not enough, torturing him. He realized he was saying this out loud when those blue eyes met his briefly, a pleased expression in them. He sucked harder, but not by much, drawing it out. Erik dug his fingers harder into the mattress, breathing hard, using all his willpower to refrain from thrusting into him, as his aching balls urged him to do. He knew he couldn't last, and he didn't, coming hard into the mutant's mouth, his vision going white. He collapsed backwards onto the bed, catching his breath. The mutant crawled up beside him, a question in his eyes.

"Thank you," Erik gasped out. "That was - the best I've had in a long time," he admitted.

The mutant didn't smile but his eyes appeared to be. Then he looked questioning again, glancing between Erik and the bathroom.

"I'm not sure what you're asking," said Erik honestly. Obviously the mutant was used to some kind of routine Erik wasn't familiar with. "I'll clean myself up," he guessed. "Don't worry about it."

The mutant nodded, his bright expression fading back into that defeated, blank sadness. He laid back down on the bed, putting several feet between himself and Erik, his back to him. Clearly, he thought it was over and Erik would leave him now that he'd gotten what he'd come for.

Erik felt a strange, unfamiliar pain in his chest at the sight.

"So this is how it ends? At opposite ends of the bed, and me marching out the door? Not with me, mister."

Erik scooted so he was spooning snugly behind the mutant, throwing an arm and a leg over him, holding him gently. Slowly, he felt the other man relax. Unable to help himself, Erik rubbed the shorter man's chest soothingly with his hand, reaching up and combing his hands through the silky hair. He could feel, under the shirt, what felt like scars. As much as he wanted to investigate, he felt that would be pushing too much right now.

The mutant shifted so he was on his back, with Erik partly on top of him, meeting his gaze, his eyes soft. Slowly, hesitantly, he put his arm over Erik and rubbed his back lightly with that butterfly wing touch of his. Erik smiled gently, continuing to rub soothing circles with his thumb on the mutant's still tense shoulders. He clearly wasn't used to this kind of attention.

Truth be told, Erik wasn't used to giving it. All of his previous sexual encounters had been completely impersonal. He had no desire to get attached or involved with anyone. Never before had he any idea what the term 'making love' meant. Now, he felt he had some idea. He wasn't sure that it was love, but there certainly was a connection between them, a silent understanding.

After a few minutes, Erik started feeling uncomfortable. He was the type that liked to reciprocate in bed. Leaving things like this didn't feel right to him. "Hey," said Erik gently, awkwardly. "It's time for payback." He reached down to the top of the mutant's pants, waiting for permission, as the mutant had done.

The mutant gazed at him thoughtfully, tensely, regretfully, then shook his head.

"Are you sure? I don't mind returning the favor," said Erik, disappointed.

The mutant looked touched and apologetic but shook his head again, as if to say, thanks, but no thanks.

"All right," agreed Erik. He let his hand drop. After several pleasant minutes Erik got up and cleaned himself up in the bathroom, the mutant watching curiously. Erik returned to the bed and sat down when he finished. Now it was Erik's turn to gaze at him with curiosity. He knew he wouldn't get answers to his questions, but he couldn't help asking them. "Why won't you speak? Not even to say your name?"

The mutant gave him a regretful look but still refused to speak.

The tinkling of a bell interrupted their exchange.

"That's my cue to leave, isn't it?" said Erik.

The mutant nodded, the regret deepening starkly on his face, weariness and blankness returning.

"Well," Erik said, feeling a bit awkward again. "Thank you." Erik gave a small smile, steeling himself against those eyes. He got up and left without a second glance, intending not to return, ignoring the pang in his chest at leaving the sad and lonely mutant behind.


	2. I'm A Lone Shark, Dammit

I'm A Lone Shark, Dammit

 _Erik struggled against the tight metal bands that rendered him immobile on the cold metal table. Before his mother had been murdered, she pleaded with him not to panic no matter what, telling him he had no reason to, he was human. But how could he not, when he could see the wickedly sharp knives on the table, the container filled with needles, the metal chain dangling at the end of a whip, and the metal clamps strong enough to crush bone, knowing Shaw intended to use these horrible things on him to prove his humanity?_

Hearing footsteps, Erik twisted and thrashed with all his might, gasping for air. Footsteps, coming closer. Ever closer. Shaw was just around the corner, there was no escape, he would be excruciatingly tortured...

Erik woke up with a start, out of breath, instinctively reaching for some invisible person that, for a brief moment, he believed to be there. Confused, Erik realized he expected the handsome mutant from the night before would still be beside him. Apparently his subconscious still believed him to be at the brothel, when in reality he lay on the bed in his hotel room. He shrugged to himself. Nightmares about the time Shaw murdered his parents and confirmed he was human often haunted him, and, due to his constant moving around, so did his confusion afterwards. No reason to believe there was anything significant to this. He conveniently ignored the fact that he'd never reached out to be comforted by someone since his parents had died.

Erik, catching his breath, climbed out of bed and strode into the bathroom to start his morning routine. He stared into the mirror, truly looking, for the first time in a long time. _Was this what the mutant saw last night? _he wondered, taking note of his shaggy cut and his scruffy facial hair, overdue for a shave. Frowning, he got his shaving kit out of his suitcase and set to work.__

When his face was completely smooth, he thread his hands through his unkempt hair. He really needed a cut. Besides, everyone knew the barber's shop was an excellent source of information and gossip. It only made sense, in the grand scheme of things, to go there and get his hair sorted out. He ignored the voice in his head that insisted he wanted to impress a certain blue eyed mutant, who he may not see again anyway.

Decision made, he dressed and used his map to find the local barber's shop. He methodically wove his way through the relatively quiet main street, the morning sun blinding him whenever he happened to turn eastward. Finally his eye caught sight of a black and white sign overlooking a small shop: Barber Rowle's. A sliding partition on the sign indicated "Open." Erik strode inside.

The sight of the man behind the black and white counter took him by surprise. 

"You again!" said his blond haired, blue eyed debate partner of the night before.

Erik graced him with a small smile, attempting to hide his disappointment. He would be getting no useful information then. Still, he needed a cut. "Erik," he introduced himself. An unsettling vibe emanating from the man cautioned him from giving out his last name.

"I'm Rowle," the man returned. He gestured towards the seat for Erik to sit in while he cut his hair.

Erik sat down, sensing uneasily as the pair of scissors approached his head in Rowle's hands. Something about this man set off his fight or flight instinct. He forced himself to sit still. Being on the move and often getting into fights no doubt made him overly paranoid about having someone hold something sharp and close to his neck while his back was turned. His thoughts wandered back to the night before, fondly recalling how the mutant's eyes shone when he offered the blow job of his own free will. Unconsciously, a genuine smile stretched out on his face.

"What has you so perky this morning?" Rowle grunted. Snip, snip, snip, went the scissors, providing background noise. "A real change from last night."

"I went to Exotic Pleasures last night," explained Erik.

"Never heard of it," admitted Rowle.

"It's a mutant brothel on Cass Street," Erik answered bluntly.

"Funny how out of towners find out things the locals don't, innt?" mused the barber, still snipping with his scissors. "Must have been a good time."

Erik wanted to keep his experience with the mutant to himself. "Going to debate about mutants again?" Erik challenged him.

"Now that you've seen them yourself, are you for or against mutants?" the barber asked directly.

"I haven't changed my opinion," Erik told him, ignoring the empathy that throbbed in him for the blue eyed mutant.

"Swing voters," Rowle muttered like a curse, accidentally tugging on Erik's hair. Erik gritted his teeth but remained silent. "If the mutants are so great, then how did they get conquered? The Holocaust was violent but short," the barber pointed out.

"The mutants were disorganized and didn't have a good way, or the time, to form a resistance and communicate with each other. That doesn't mean they were unintelligent or subhuman," Erik objected. "With greedy relatives turning the mutants in to inherit their money throughout the Slave Inheritance Act, the rounding up of mutants they identified a few years earlier through that underhanded Registration Act, and the interrogation of people suspected of mutations, it was little wonder they fell so quickly."

"You give them far too much credit. They should have seen this coming," argued Rowle. "They were stupid and arrogant, relying too much in their powers. They forgot that few mutations have defenses against the atomic bomb, for example. Hardly the next step in evolution. Technology and our superior intelligence will win every time. They are very easily controlled through those chips."

Erik and Rowle debated for the remainder of his haircut, neither one budging an inch. After Erik left the shop, a clothing store caught his eye. He glanced at his own attire with new eyes, thinking once more about what the mutant must have thought. Not that it mattered, of course, but it was a good point. He would make a more intimidating figure with the right outfit, which could only help in getting information out of people. That is the excuse he gave himself as he entered the shop, browsing for something more impressive looking. Once he gathered everything he believed would fit in his suitcase, he set them down on the counter to be rung up. Spying a bottle of cologne, he added it to the pile, pointedly not thinking too deeply about his flimsy reasoning for that. 

As he headed back to his hotel with his purchases, he passed the bar where he had debated with Rowle last night, before meeting the mutant. It made him wonder if the blue eyed man ever had any alcohol. He doubted it.

There he was, thinking about him again. He couldn't stop thinking about last night's encounter. He just couldn't get those eyes out of his head, the admiration he felt at the dignity the mutant conveyed even in his lowly situation. He couldn't forget the strange connection he felt to the mutant.

One more night with him wouldn't hurt. He could delay his search for Shaw that much.

The idea of arriving empty handed, however, didn't seem right to him. It was ridiculous, really. It wasn't like he was dating him, or owed him anything. He might not even see him again. Still, he couldn't help himself when he bought scotch (the mutant looked English)  and two small glasses he could easily conceal. He doubted the slaves were allowed alcohol, but as long as they didn't get drunk or caught he figured it would be all right.

He returned to his hotel room and changed into his new clothes, discarding his old ones, and spritzed on the cologne as an afterthought. He might as well make use of it. 

Deed done, he decided to pass the rest of the time poking around the alley that Bart's Leathers resided on, hoping to stumble upon a lead. Surely Shaw would put a watch on places like this, and through that person he could find the bastard. He took note of the people entering and exiting Bart's Leathers, but his covert investigations lead to nothing. On more than one occasion, he couldn't help but think it would have been useful to have a partner, especially when there was multiple people to follow and question. 

On one such occasion, he had to choose between a young, pretty brunette and a hairy brute of a man smoking heavily with breath that stank so thickly of alcohol that it shocked Erik he could walk in a straight line, much less appear as sober as he did. He chose the lady. 

"Nice leather bag you have there," commented Erik in attempt to strike up a casual conversation. "Name's Erik." He smiled flirtatiously, hoping to give the impression that he wanted to pick her up. 

"Moira," she returned, barely giving him a glance. If she answered his questions, maybe he would go away.

"Did you just get the bag? Or did you take advantage of Bart's other talents?" Erik said suggestively. Being a bastard often angered people enough to reveal to him what he wanted to know, in attempt to intimidate him.  Most people did not want to get in trouble with a government official, so flaunting it bought protection.

"Fuck off, asshole," she snapped back.

He refrained from responding, considering her. He could sense nothing metallic on her. All officials carried a metallic weapon of some sort. Her belt buckle must have been made of some cheap  material, so she clearly did not come from money. No ties to the government then. She headed in the general direction of his hotel, and he hurried back to the alley.

When dusk approached, he set off for the brothel again. Despite the dead ends and his frustrating unlucky streak, he could not summon much disappointment, not when he was about to see the mutant.

He entered the brothel again to the same lineup, struggling once more with the door. Without hesitation, he strode down the line briskly towards where his mutant had been chained last time.

"You came back!" exclaimed Pilas, waddling up behind him quickly, clearly pleased.

Erik stopped behind the short, dark haired mutant, who was facing the wall, appearing even more dejected and disinterested about his surroundings than he did the night before, his eyes blank, posture slumped and frozen, as if he'd gone completely internal. Erik felt that strange, intense pain in his chest again at the sight.

"I wish to have him again," announced Erik.

At the sound of Erik's voice, the mutant straightened and slowly, disbelievingly turned around, chains clinking. Two shocked blue eyes met Erik's. The shorter man blinked, then his eyes softened, a spark of delight and welcome in them. Erik smiled, the pain in his chest easing.

Pilas looked stunned. "Really? It is not often that someone requests him twice."

"Yes," stated Erik firmly, and the mutant was led away. He paid for more time tonight. He didn't want things cut short like they had been last time. Pilas was too busy feeling giddy about his good fortune that Erik had returned to notice the bulging pockets of Erik's coat that contained the alcohol and glasses.

"Suit yourself," said Pilas. "You know the way."

Erik made his way to the mutant's room, entering it and locking it behind him. He didn't bother taking in the surroundings today, immediately striding up to the mutant chained to the bed. He appeared much more relaxed, a touch of a smile glinting in his eyes at Erik's approach. The strongest emotion, though, was wonder. Clearly he hadn't expected Erik to return.

Erik stopped just short of the bed, feeling foolish about what he was about to do, but the mutant's gentle, accepting gaze gave him the determination to continue. "Hey. I brought you something."

The slave's eyes turned stunned when Erik pulled out the scotch with the two glasses, setting them on the wooden bedside table. Since the mutant seemed frozen, Erik opened it and poured both glasses, taking one for himself and offering one to him. He didn't take it right away, still staring at Erik with something akin to awe.

"It'll help you relax," said Erik, with an encouraging smile. Getting some action didn't seem as important to him right now as making the mutant feel comfortable with him.

Gingerly, gently, he took the glass from Erik, his chains clinking as he did so. He took a sip.

"Do you like it? I wasn't sure what you'd like," admitted Erik, fervently denying to himself that he was anxious about this.

The mutant regarded him with a soft expression and nodded. Erik smiled in relief. They drank in silence for a minute, Erik eying the silver chains. He knew he wouldn't be able to get them off him, but, "Is there a way to extend these?" Erik asked, gesturing to the chains. If he felt less trapped, that might help him relax too.

He nodded, gesturing towards a lever by the door, far beyond the reach of the chains. Erik got up and examined it. If he pulled up, it would shorten the chains. If he pulled down, it would lengthen them. He pulled down, surprised by how difficult it was. Did no one ever choose the lengthening option, choosing to shorten them instead? By the look and feel of things, it certainly seemed that way. He set his drink down. With a grunt of brute strength, he forced the lever down, and he heard the distinct clinking of the chains extending. He held it down until the chains couldn't be extended any further, and let go with a loud exhale. "That thing could sure use some lube," he commented to the mutant, realizing too late how suggestive that sentence could be interpreted. He didn't want to take the lead. He wanted the mutant to, like last time.

He didn't look uncomfortable, though, as Erik approached the bed with his scotch again, sitting down on the edge. More like thoughtful. They both finished their glasses after a long, comfortable silence and set them on the bedside table. Their gazes met, and the air sizzled with tension.

The mutant climbed off the bed and knelt between Erik's legs much the same as he had the night before. Erik's breathing sped up in anticipation. Seeing this, the kneeling man didn't bother to wait for permission this time, undoing his belt and pants and pulling them down quickly. Erik was fully hard before he even touched him this time, so he just sank his mouth onto his cock and sucked slower, softer than he had the night before, doing wicked things with his tongue that made Erik squirm and clutch hard at the mattress. After an abruptly hard suck, Erik made to grab at him, but quickly aborted the gesture, digging his nails into the sheets again. The mutant had noticed, however, and stilled. _Fuck, I scared him, _Erik thought regretfully, and prepared to deal with an epic case of blue balls.__

That wasn't it. Slowly, gently, with that butterfly touch of his, he grasped Erik's large hands and guided them to his shoulders. Erik's heart melted at the simple gesture that seemed so heavily laden with meaning. Erik gripped the mutant's shoulders, rubbing soothingly and encouragingly with his thumbs, sometimes gripping hard enough to bruise as he resumed sucking, but the shorter man didn't seem to mind. In fact, it seemed to encourage him into being more impish and enthusiastic, teasing him and bringing him to the edge a few times and drawing back, with Erik grunting in frustration. He couldn't help but feel a bit of exasperated fondness, though, at the glint of genuine enjoyment in the mutant's eyes. Finally he had pity on Erik and brought him to a completion that was even more intense than the night before. Erik fell back, gasping for breath. He heard the mutant moving around, chains clinking, but Erik's mind was too far in bliss land to even wonder what he was doing.

He felt him climb onto the bed next to him, closer than last night, and Erik met his gaze, which had a slight teasing edge to it as he offered him a full glass of scotch. "Think I need it, do you?" said Erik with a sheepish grin.

The other man nodded a bit smugly, his eyes smirking. Erik accepted it with a short laugh and downed the glass. "You can have as much of it as you like," he said, gesturing towards the bottle as he set his glass back down.

His eyes softened but he shook his head, looking regretful, his eyes going a bit blank.

"You'd get in trouble if you got drunk?" Erik guessed.

He nodded, going a bit blank again.

 Wanting to wipe that miserable expression from those blue eyes, Erik reached for the top of the mutant's pants, resting his hand there. "Are you sure you don't want me to reciprocate?"

He looked tempted for a moment before slowly, reluctantly shaking his head no.

"All right," agreed Erik, somewhat disappointed. After a comfortable, drawn out silence, he heard the tinkling of the bells, signaling the end of their time together. 

The mutant reached out and squeezed Erik's hand lightly, like a butterfly landing on his hand. Erik smiled, steeled himself against those eyes, and left quickly, taking the glasses and scotch with him so neither of them would get in trouble.

The next day, Erik stood in line at the train station to buy a ticket. It was time to move on and try to pick up Shaw's trail elsewhere. Time to resume the only life he knew. The late afternoon sky overhead threatened rain, the chilly air prompting him to zip up his leather jacket. Bored, he observed the people around him. He'd never taken note of it before, but everyone he observed had a traveling companion. 

Except for him, of course. The spot beside him seemed even emptier than usual. _It's better that way, _he told himself. _No one to slow me down. _____

Trying to distract himself, he focused on the metal around him. Honing his intuition would only help, especially in a fight, his past near misses attesting to that.  It had taken practice over many years, but now he felt confident that his sense was acute enough to even count each separate coin in someone's pocket without looking. If he developed this enough, he might even be able to track bullet trajectories better.

His turn came to pay. The frowning, irritable ticket master prepared his ticket as Erik declared his destination to be the next town and reached into his pocket for his money. When he did, the image of the mutant, chained to the wall, dejected and empty, swam in his mind's eye. He froze, heart squeezing painfully, breath stolen. He couldn't go through with this and leave him like that. 

Hardly aware of what he was doing, Erik muttered, "Fuck it," and stalked hurriedly away from the train station. He feet carried him on automatic pilot back to his hotel. Halfway there, Erik finally began thinking rationally again. _What am I doing? I need to go. There is nothing for me here. _Yet, he couldn't get the image of the young, unloved man out of his head, the desire to make his life as wonderful as the mutant deserved. Erik raked his fingers through his hair as he neared his hotel. How could he find a way to move on?__

Maybe he just had a thing for mutants. Hey, people had stranger kinks than that. Maybe if he spent the night with another mutant, he would find that he just liked mutants. That would be no problem - he was sure that wherever he hunted next, he could find another one of these places. Then he could forget about those blue eyes that seemed to peer deep into his soul, burdening him with inconvenient feelings, begging him to stay. He didn't need anyone, and why would anyone need him? What good was he to them? The only people he cared about had suffered and died. Some part of him still blamed himself.

With that plan in mind, he marched into the brothel, determined to get over this, this _thing, _once and for all. He was a man on a mission, not some pathetic, lovesick little boy. He could handle this. In the lineup, he pointedly ignored the two blue eyes that bored into his back, brutally suppressing how it made him feel to reject his hopeful look. The pretty blond one - wasn't her name Emma? - caught his eye. He nodded to her without a word, and paid Pilas. Pilas made no comment, a bit unnerved by the vibes he was getting from Erik, despite his euphoria that Erik came back a third time.__

"Hey, sugar," Emma greeted him from the bed as he entered her room. The decor was much the same as the other mutant's, except for one startling difference - in this room, Emma sprawled free, no chains in sight. "Got tired of the silence?" she asked, her tone derisive about the other mutant.

Erik didn't answer, still trying to distract himself from the guilt clawing at his insides and the odd feeling that he was cheating on the other mutant. For fuck's sake, he owed him nothing. He could sleep with whomever he liked. There was no reason for it to feel like such a huge betrayal. No reason for the pain in his chest, squeezing around his heart. "You're not chained," Erik blurted out.

"No, Pilas keeps me free because I enjoy my job and I'm better without them. Unless you like bondage?" she offered, getting off the bed and standing before him, tracing patterns on his chest with her right forefinger. "You must, if you went back to the stubborn one a second time. I can do rough too."

"Chains won't be necessary," he assured her, focusing on her talented touch and ignoring her implications.

Emma smiled. "No, I think not. You are a strong, handsome man. Not often I get to be with one as attractive as you."

Erik returned the smile, thoughts of the other mutant fading temporarily. Emma, in some ways, was much more pleasant, more enthusiastic, for one thing. She actually talked. He didn't have to 'wine and dine' her to get her to want to be with him. He didn't have to hold back for fear she'd feel violated. She immediately worked to seduce him, smiling and doing a little dance, stripping along the way. It had barely been two minutes and he'd already gotten further with her than him.

He fucked into her, hard, determined to beat this out of his system. He was a loner. He would stay that way. He didn't need anyone. The only thing he needed was to kill Shaw. He repeated this like a mantra, over and over, as he snapped his hips ruthlessly. Emma did not appear to mind, encouraging him, and he put all his considerable strength into it. She took it, resilient somehow as diamond. When he finally reached completion, however, he did not feel the least bit satisfied. Two confused, sorrowful, blue, betrayed eyes still peered at him every time he closed his eyes.

The connection he felt with him spoiled him for anyone else.

Fight drained out of him, Erik left the room without a word. He still had plenty of time left. He strode up to the blue-eyed mutant and gestured to him in defeat, noting the confused, hurt look in his eyes with a regretful pang. Erik waited impatiently while the slave was transferred to his room.

He strode into the room with a lost air, shutting and locking the door behind him. Upon seeing the mutant's continued hurt, confused expression, Erik sank into a plush armchair close to the bed, his head in his hands. "I can't," he gasped. "I can't, I just can't get you out of my head," Erik continued, not meeting his gaze, frustrated with his out of control feelings. "I can't stay, I have a job to do, I need to move on, but I can't, I just can't, not with you looking at me like that." He paused, hearing the mutant approach him, but did not look up. "I don't prefer Emma. I never did. You are exceptional. But if you no longer wish to do anything with me, I understand," he said, something breaking inside. If that was the case, he would have no choice but to move on.

He tried to stand up but was stopped by a feather light touch on his shoulder. Erik forced himself to meet the mutant's eyes. Time to man up and face what he did, rejecting him like that, after what had passed between them. Those eyes, however, showed nothing but concern, acceptance, and forgiveness.

Since the mutant wouldn't speak, Erik felt he needed to clarify things, to be sure. "I'm sorry. Are we good?" Erik waited with baited breath. He couldn't remember the last time be apologized. It had to have been before he met Shaw. Forgiveness just never mattered to him before. Why care about it when he would never see the person again anyway? Yet now, it did, so much. What normally would mean nothing felt like a huge transgression against this young, unloved man.

The mutant nodded solemnly.

Erik felt the tension uncurl inside him in relief. "I didn't bring the scotch. I'm sorry.  And I won't - do that to you again," he promised.

He nodded again, accepting.

"We don't have to do anything tonight," Erik said. His cock complained, being sucked off by this mutant was far better than being inside Emma had been, but he ignored it firmly. "Here, I'll - let me try to make you comfortable." He got up, forcing the lever down again so the chains lengthened as far as they would go.

He turned around, hearing the chains clinking, signaling the mutant's approach. He was carrying a jar of massage oil with a questioning look.

"Hey," said Erik. "Why I don't massage you instead? I would like to make it up to you."

He shook his head, though, still holding onto it insistently, gesturing towards the bed. His eyes radiated concern.

"All right," said Erik, not protesting any more. He took off his shirt and pants, leaving his boxers on, stretching himself face down on the bed. Those wonderful fingers rubbed his shoulders with the oil, just the way he liked it, and his tension gradually eased even more. Erik couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this relaxed and at peace. They fell into companionable silence.

When he was done massaging his back, he had Erik flip over so he could do his front. As those talented fingers slowly worked their way south, Erik tried - and failed - to keep from getting aroused. He caught, and held, the mutant's thoughtful gaze. "You don't have to do anything," he said.

The mutant ignored him, tugging down his underwear and crawling between his legs. Erik grunted helplessly as he grew intensely aroused, fully hard, with pupils blown and fast breathing, the anticipation of what was to come undoing him. The mutant just watched him thoughtfully for a minute, his expression soft, before sinking his mouth on Erik's cock in a gesture he was now becoming familiar with.

Erik groaned, twisting slightly at the sensation, clawing at the sheets. It was harder to get a grip on something when he didn't have the edge of the mattress to hang onto. He jumped slightly, startled, as a gentle hand closed over each of his wrists, slowly guiding Erik's hands to the mutant's head.

Deeply touched, his voice rough, he asked, "Are you sure?"

The hands squeezed reassuringly in response.

With the permission granted, Erik thread his hands through the mutant's hair, his grip tightening convulsively whenever he gave a particularly hard suck or his tongue touched an extra sensitive place. The mutant, now more familiar with what Erik liked, lingered teasingly on all of his most sensitive places, building him into an excruciatingly slow climax. It took all of his willpower not to thrust into him or force him to go faster with his hands. He swore to himself he'd never to that to him, this being which he cared for more than he would like to admit to himself, especially not with all the abuse this gentle being clearly suffered. He wanted to keep him safe, protect him, wipe away the terrible experiences from his mind. 

His fury belonged to people like Shaw, and Shaw only. It wasn't the mutant's fault he was having such a difficult time finding him. For he could see now, his reluctance to stay stemmed from his frustration at his failure, not a lack of desire for the mutant. He could stay here forever with him, making him happy, no sexual strings (or otherwise) attached.

Just when he thought he could bear it no more, he finally came with a grunt, immense satisfaction filling him, the connection between them enhancing the experience in a way he'd never dreamed of. The mutant sat up and observed him, still between Erik's legs. They gazed at each other in quiet contemplation as Erik came down from his high. "Thank you," gasped Erik. "I know - I know that after - thank you, for still doing this, even after what I did to you."

The mutant surprised him by swooping down and pressing a gentle, quick, chaste kiss on his lips.

Before Erik could respond, the bells tinkled.

Erik got up.  "I will be back tomorrow, I'll bring the scotch, I'll figure things out - I won't turn my back on you again, I promise," he said earnestly.

The mutant squeezed his hand and let him go. Erik walked out, a slightly defeated energy in his step. He couldn't leave him behind, not like this. He would have to do something. But what?


	3. I'll Take Care of Him

I'll Take Care of Him

Erik strode back to his hotel, contemplating what he could do for the mutant and still be able to hunt down Shaw. The most obvious solution, buying him, admittedly held appeal. It probably would be easy to persuade Pilas to sell him, as he did not have the impression that his mutant had gained much popularity in his time there, and Pilas obviously needed money if he couldn't even fix his door. Then he could continue on, maybe slower and less efficiently than before, but that seemed a minor sacrifice now.

The full moon smiled brightly down at him as he imagined what his life would be like with the mutant by his side. If the mutant so chose, he would wake up to him every morning, the empty space beside him filled in the best way possible. He'd care for the mutant and protect him from all harm. Those blue eyes would brighten and glow, losing that awful blank, miserable look. Maybe they'd even have sex, real sex, not just a one sided blow job. The mutant might even agree to speak. He'd spoil him with all the best things money could buy, find a hobby he liked and provide him with the means to pursue it as he wished.

Yet, there was something sour about that image. No matter how much free reign he gave him, there would be no equality or true freedom in that arrangement. He much preferred him as an equal. He deserved freedom. 

Freeing slaves was illegal, however, and very difficult, especially if he wished to disable the inhibitor chip so he could use whatever mutation he had. If he freed him, he would need help to get him to a safe place where he could truly live free. That task required more resources than he had access to.

Throughout history, whenever a people was enslaved, there existed an underground railroad of some sort. He bet, hoped, there was one for mutants. Maybe he could smuggle him out, buy him, and take him to a nearby safehouse, if it existed. If he knew the mutant was free, it would be much easier to leave him behind. Erik pointedly ignored the painful twinge at the thought of leaving him. Once free, he no doubt would want nothing to do with Erik. Taking along a free mutant would only end in disaster once he was inevitably stopped and discovered, anyway. It would be for the best.

Now he just had to search for such an organization. Erik supposed that the way to find an underground railroad differed little from tracking a secret government agent. He would start tomorrow.

Erik arrived at his hotel and checked in, the brown theme of the interior a welcome relief from the gaudiness of the brothel. When he turned to go to his room, he noticed Moira pass by and peruse the papers and magazines set out for the guests. So, she was staying here too. 

But he noticed something odd about her. She wore many of the same things she had earlier, but now he could sense the metal, in her necklace, her belt buckle, and the many weapons she concealed on her person. Perhaps he'd simply been too distracted when they first met? Yet, that didn't seem right. This merited investigating.

"Moira," greeted Erik in his troublemaker voice, grinning like a shark.

Moira glanced up in annoyance from where she sat reading. "I'm not interested."

"Clearly. I'm more interested to know what has you so frightened. This is a small town with a very low crime rate. Why are you armed to the teeth so suddenly? You weren't in the alley. Someone after you?"

"I am carrying a weapon, but it's perfectly legal," she said defensively. "I always do."

"Except when you go shopping," mused Erik.

"No, I do. How did you know I'm carrying anyway? No one has ever been able to detect it."

"I have my ways," said Erik evasively. 

Moira stared at him, her doe eyes softening and going wide. "You...do you need help?"

Erik stared, taken off guard by this abrupt change in attitude. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that, I'm not on the run, exactly, but you must be," she whispered, glancing around to check for eavesdroppers. 

Erik frowned, losing the thread of the conversation. "I'm not on the run."

Moira glanced around again. "I want to try something. Will you come up to my room with me? And that wasn't a proposition!"

"Don't worry, I was never really interested. I'm taken," Erik said.

They walked back to her room. "Does she know you flirt with other girls?"

"Not a she," Erik admitted. "It's complicated."

Moira didn't press further, opening her door and letting them both inside. She gestured Erik to sit down on the couch opposite her, and she sat on a chair by the bag she'd been carrying earlier.

Suddenly, Erik could no longer sense the metal she had on her person. He stared at her, frowning. Odd. He couldn't even sense the zipper on his leather jacket. 

"You're noticing something different, aren't you?" Moira commented softly.

"What are you doing?" Erik asked, puzzled.

"Erik, you're a mutant. This device I have in the bag blocks-"

Erik stood and strode over, towering over her threateningly. "I am NOT a mutant! I just have an intuitive sense of metal because of the dangerous life I lead!"

Moira, unsurprised by his reaction, calmly met his furious gaze. "I know it's not something you want to hear, but your reaction to this device proves-"

"Shaw himself proved that I am human," Erik said vehemently. "My own mother knew I was human and told me so!"

"There's nothing wrong with being a mutant. I won't turn you in," she said.

Erik paused in his fury, possibilities forming in his mind. "I know there's not. I have nothing against mutants," he replied carefully, studying her. He sat back down.

"I can help you," Moira said.

She was convinced he was a mutant, and she kept offering to help because of that. It seemed that though his luck ran out right now with tracking Shaw, it had surfaced already in his determination to help the mutant. "I don't need help, but I know someone that does."

"Who?"

"It's hard to explain," hedged Erik. Admitting to himself how he felt about the mutant was one thing, but admitting it to someone else was another thing entirely.

"Your boyfriend?" Moira guessed.

Erik thread his fingers through his hair uneasily.

"He's a mutant." She took his continued silence as an admission. "Not your own slave, though, obviously."

Erik shook his head. "Would you...take him in?"

"I have resources, but we need money. If you made a reasonable donation, I could see to his safety. What's your plan?"

"I'm going to buy him," said Erik. In a selfish way, he was disappointed that he'd settled things quickly. Now he would have to say goodbye to him all the sooner.

"It would be best for him, a lot less dangerous, if you helped with the cost, and I bought him instead," Moira said. "Then I can smuggle him to the border of Switzerland without risk to him if questions are asked."

Switzerland, Erik knew, was one of the few countries that refused to join in the one world government of humans that had formed. Switzerland allowed mutants equal rights, though that ostracized them from the rest of the world. Mutants were not allowed to enter the country, and they could not leave without giving up their freedom. 

The one world government, United Nations, did not directly declare war on Switzerland, instead putting pressure on them to give up their neutral stance by limiting trade and access to resources from other countries. As a result, life there wasn't easy, but if she could manage to get him across the boarder, at least he would be free. Since Moira would never report him missing, no one would ever come looking for him to bring him back. The Swiss would grant him official citizenship after a year or two, once they were sure the United Nations were not going to find out and demand deportation. All in all, a good plan. 

 "I'll be staying here for a few days, so I can do that first thing tomorrow morning and check to see if I'm being followed. It's routine," she explained. "We don't want to draw attention to our safe house for mutants."

Erik did not like handing over a large sum of money to a stranger. He told her his concerns, and she agreed to not take the money until he could confirm with Pilas that she was actually using it for that. Not that Pilas would know that it was Erik's money.

"And Erik, think about what I said."

Erik would do no such thing, but he wanted to make nice, so he nodded again and left, settling in his bed shortly after.

 _Erik, with his father beside him, fought through an endless crowd to get to his mother as she was dragged away by human soldiers. No matter how hard he struggled, his mother slipped further and further away. Almost out of sight, she yanked her hand out of the soldier's grasp and raised it to her temple. The metal gate, that threatened to separate them completely, groaned and bent, but did not yield. His mother disappeared..._  

Erik jerked awake, gasping, reaching for the empty spot beside him. His hands grasped nothing but air, confusion giving way to coherency. Once again, he held the strange expectation that the mutant would be there with him. He reflected briefly on his nightmare as his breathing slowed. Nightmares of his separation from his mother were not unusual, but her hand gesture and the groaning metal gate had been a new twist. That certainly had not been the way it had gone in reality. He'd blacked out, his head screaming in pain, shortly after the gate had been closed.

The next time he saw his parents, Shaw had shot them in front of him. The fact that he had not been able to sense metal back then was a small mercy. Actually being able to feel the bullets tearing through their skulls was more than he thought he could bear.

No doubt this odd departure from the usual stemmed from Moira's ridiculous claims yesterday. He'd been through horrible torture and never showed the slightest sign of mutation. She had no right to disregard that as if it had been nothing. Clearly, her device was faulty.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He threw on a pair of pants and hurried to unlock and open the door. Moira stood on the other side, frowning. The mutant was conspicuously absent, to Erik's disappointment. Perhaps she had left him in her room?

"Come in," Erik invited. Moira came in but didn't bother to sit down.

"Pilas won't sell him," she informed him without preamble.

Anger swelled in Erik's chest. "Don't worry, I'll persuade him," he said darkly, going to find his shirt and his weapons. 

Moira followed him. "No, don't do that!" she said, her voice firm. "That will draw attention to me and make things very dangerous not only for him, but for me and all the mutants I help! We must either persuade him peacefully or break him out. I need you to not get kicked out of there if we are to do that. Pilas still has no idea that we're working together. You can help me by continuing to go there and developing a plan. After he's gone, and Pilas still has no idea of our alliance, then you can make all the threats you want to keep him from reporting him missing. All right?"

Erik's blood still pounded through his veins, demanding he take action, but he could not refute Moira's logic. Hasty action, at this point, would make things worse for his mutant. He nodded reluctantly. "Why wouldn't he sell him?"

"Because, apparently, he's a level five and that adds prestige to his business. Sickos find it attractive to have complete control over someone with that much power buried inside them. The more level fives he has, the more successful he believes he will be."

"Level five?" Erik asked in confusion. 

"The most powerful level of mutation there is. Whatever he can do without the chip inhibiting him, he does it well, with potential for great destruction."

Erik had no idea he was that powerful, and thought it was odd Pilas never flaunted that fact. But come to think of it, he had seen numbers posted by the mutants on the wall. He'd paid no attention to them when he concluded they made no sense. Now they did, so he planned on taking note of them next time, curious.

Learning this made Erik wonder as to what else Moira knew. It occurred to him that she must keep close watch on the government, and may even have spies inside. "What do you know about Shaw?"

Moira blinked in confusion at the abrupt change in subject, but answered him after a moment. "That he is one of our biggest concerns. If he finds out about our underground railroad, it will be the end for all of us. Tracking him is very difficult, though. He must have some secret base that we haven't found out about."

"I'm trying to track him myself. It isn't easy," Erik admitted. "I heard a rumor that he had a colleague in this town gathering information for him, possibly at Bart's Leathers, but I hit a dead end."

"Which is why you were such an ass the other day," Moira realized.

"I'm always an ass," Erik objected with a shark grin.

Moira gave him a disbelieving glance. "I have to get going and meet up with someone. Just business," she clarified when Erik's grin widened suggestively.

She left with a promise to check back in with him tomorrow, when they could start formulating plans to free his mutant.

Now that he had a lot of time on his hands before going to see the mutant tonight, he checked out a few language books from the local library. It was always good to brush up on the numerous languages he knew. Interrogation did no good if he misinterpreted what the person said.

He also did a sketch of the mutant while his image shone clear and fresh in his mind. If all went to plan, he would soon be just a memory. Hours passed without him realizing it. He glanced at the clock, hurriedly stashing the sketch in the suitcase pouch with his other ones. It was now time to return again to the mutant, who was becoming far more than a pleasure slave to him, but he did not care to examine exactly what more that might be, especially with his pending departure from his life.

Erik eagerly entered the brothel and shoved the door closed with his shoulder, his hands stiff from drawing. He made to walk past Emma, clearly heading towards his silent mutant, but she stopped him.

"He's not in any shape, sugar," she cautioned him.

Alarmed, Erik hurried over to his mutant, who had his back turned, hands buried in his long sleeves, and face averted so that only his dark hair was visible. "Hey, everything okay?" Erik asked softly.

 The mutant didn't turn or acknowledge him in any way, holding himself stiff and slumped. Now it was Erik's turn to be confused. He thought he'd been forgiven. He couldn't blame him if he'd changed his mind, but it didn't seem like him. Did this have something to do with what Emma said? 

He paid for his time while the mutant was taken back to the room, the mutant moving more slowly and stiffly than normal. Erik stared after him, concerned and preoccupied. He rushed to the room as soon as he could, determined to find out what was wrong. He'd brought the scotch. Maybe he would feel better when he saw it.

Erik opened the door, surprised by how dark the room was. Only a few candles were lit along the wall. He gave his eyes a minute to adjust, pulling the lever to extend the chains as he did so. Now that it was being used, it came down with much greater ease. There was no sign or sound that the mutant had moved at all, so Erik cautiously made his way to the bed, putting the scotch and the glasses on the table. "Hey," he said, directing his gaze to the form on the bed, apparently under the sheets. "Are you okay? I brought the scotch." 

There was no response, not that he'd been expecting one, really, but he thought he would at least get a hand squeeze, or some sign that everything was all right. Unsure of what to do, he found the lighters and lit the rest of the candles so he could see to pour the last of the scotch in the glasses. As the candles burned, the smell of fragrant smoke reached his nose. 

After he finished pouring, he shifted on the bed, turning his attention to the small form under blue silk, only his dark head of hair visible. He gently placed his hand where he believed the mutant's shoulder to be, doing his best imitation of that butterfly touch. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to," he assured him, "but I do want to know that everything is okay. You aren't hurt are you?" he asked, suspicions forming in his mind. He remembered what the owner had said the first night, about saving this one for the people who 'liked it rough' because he was stubborn. He was sure that was a euphemism for things like rape, bloodplay, and various other cruel things that Erik's mind skittered away from. Now was not the time to lose his temper.

"If someone hurt you I want to take care of it," Erik continued, his voice turning to steel. "Show me. Please," he added, making his voice gentler so the mutant knew his anger wasn't directed at him.

The mutant still didn't move, but didn't resist as Erik peeled down the sheets. Rage stormed through his mind as he took in the cuts and bruises on every exposed piece of skin which he could now see, dried blood smeared everywhere. The mutant still hadn't moved or met his gaze, seemingly frozen and blank.

"It doesn't look like you have been tended to," said Erik, his anger spiking another notch. "Take your clothes off," he ordered.

Slowly, painfully, the mutant complied, sitting up, his back to Erik. This wasn't the way Erik had fantasized about seeing him naked for the first time, but his concern outweighed any disappointment. His injuries under his clothes were far worse, and Erik's frown deepened with every new patch of injured skin that was revealed.

The bruises and cuts told a clear story of what had happened. He had been chained tightly and fought against it. Someone had punched, bit, and cut him repeatedly with a knife. When Erik realized he'd been raped, his anger surged another notch.

When he was fully naked, Erik said, "Get in the tub."

The mutant struggled up, clearly in pain, but within a few minutes he managed to limp his way into the tub, the pure white theme of the bathroom making his injuries stand out even more. Erik held back a gasp as he saw the mutant's back - he had clearly been flogged, brutally. The image of that being done to him was enough to send his blood sizzling hot again with rage, straight into the murderous zone. Someone would pay for this. He would avenge him.

Erik found the necessary items in the bathroom to treat him with and sponged him down as gently as he could, disinfecting the cuts and putting soothing ointment on the bruising. Though tense, shaking, clearly in pain and habitual fear, the mutant allowed Erik to touch him freely. Erik wondered how he could have earned this kind of trust, especially after everything that had happened to him. The blue eyes, a bit teary from the disinfectant, gradually met Erik's, soft and wondering. Erik retrieved the glass of scotch for him to take the edge off the pain.

When Erik had done everything he could, he did his best to bandage him and helped him dress himself. Then Erik got him to lie back down on the bed, while Erik spooned up behind him, throwing his arm over him protectively, mindful of his injuries. 

After a few minutes, the mutant tried to turn over, clearly reaching for Erik's belt, but Erik swatted him off. "Don't be silly," he said, a bit harshly, settling his arm back over him. He'd never paid just to lie with someone before, but he felt no regrets. He relaxed, gently stroking the mutant in what he hoped was an enjoyable, soothing manner. Erik felt him scoot a bit closer, making Erik smile.

When he heard the bells, it was more difficult than ever for Erik to go. All he wanted to do was keep lying here, protecting the mutant from harm. But he couldn't do that, not indefinitely, it would only be a short term fix. His best chance was to leave and plot with Moira so the mutant could have a more long term solution.

Erik dragged himself out of the bed, coming around to the other side so the mutant could see him without moving. "I will be back. I will," he promised firmly. "Whoever did this, will pay. And I will find a way to make things better for you." Erik turned and left, using sheer willpower to force himself out the door.

Erik stormed to Pilas, willing himself not to wrap his hands around the man's throat and snap his neck. Or choke him. Or tie him up and have a go at him with that flogger his mutant had been subjected to. "I wish to make a standing appointment every evening with him," snapped Erik instead. Damn Moira and her logical stipulations.

Pilas, meaning to protest as this was against his policy, felt his words die in his throat at Erik's murderous, positively serial killer expression. "Ah, yes. Of course."

"I expect him to be in better condition. Better physical condition," Erik clarified. He didn't want Pilas to think his mutant had been performing badly in any way. "Why was he not attended to?"

"You aren't his only customer," objected Pilas. As valuable as he believed Erik to be, he couldn't afford to have him service Erik exclusively, and everyone else who was with him liked it rough. "And I tried to take care of him, but he wouldn't let me touch him without a fight and injuring himself worse. Not  worth the effort."

Erik, realizing there wasn't much he could do, gave him a disgusted look and stormed out.

Heedless of the late hour, Erik visited Moira. She had barely let him in before Erik started venting his frustration. "He's been beat up, badly. I tried taking care of him, but there was only so much I could do. We've got to get him out."

Her doe eyes widened sympathetically, but she held firm. "Not without taking the time to make a good plan. Otherwise it will make things worse for him, and you know it."

Erik thread his hands through his hair in aggravation. 

A small smile played at Moira's lips. "You really care about him, don't you?" That was just adorable, especially considering how hard ass Erik seemed otherwise. "I'm sorry about what's happening, I really am. But I've had far too many near misses to take a risk. There's too much at stake. If you want to help, you can draw the floor plans of the place, run some errands for me, and help me to figure out how to disable this proximity mutation suppressing device."

"Why the device?" Erik wondered, biting back his temper.

"The PMS device, as we like to call it, is installed in a building whenever you have five or more level five mutant slaves, as an extra precaution against them escaping. If they somehow managed to disable their chips, this will reactivate them automatically in a certain range, and it also does some mutation suppressing of its own, though not nearly as well as the chip. Pilas is sure to have one. If we can disable it, it will make escaping that much easier, since the mutant would be able to help. I've already ordered the device to disable his chip." She opened the bag, and let Erik examine the PMS device, an odd thing made mostly of antennae and a metal box filled with wires and components he didn't recognize.

"Smashing it doesn't work. We've tried. A very expensive experiment I'm not repeating," Moira explained. "There's no way of crushing it that would work in a covert mission."

Erik nodded thoughtfully, unable to get an intuitive sense of it. He gave it back to Moira. "I'll get the sketch of the place to you tomorrow," he promised before leaving. 

That night, his fear and worry that his mutant would suffer more abuse barely allowed him any sleep.


	4. I'll Share With You

I'll Share With You

Erik returned to the brothel earlier than usual the next day, a new bottle of scotch hidden in his robes. He'd also picked up a chess set, for something to do, since it was unlikely that his mutant would be in any shape to be up to any action tonight. Erik entered, not bothering to shut the door properly, and almost knocked a few people down in his haste to get to him. To his relief, the mutant stood straighter, clearly more comfortable than yesterday, so at least nothing worse had happened between now and then. Erik stepped as close as he could to him without touching him. "Are you all right?" he whispered softly into his ear.

His mutant met his gaze, nodding.

Satisfied for the moment, he paid for his time and was soon in the tub with the mutant again, tending to his injuries. They did look better today, except the ones on his back, which would take longer to heal. The mutant trembled but held still as Erik carefully rebandaged everything. 

"I brought more scotch," he told him, smiling when he saw his eyes light up. The mutant pulled his white outfit back on, and they returned to the bed. "I also brought a chess set. Do you play chess?" Erik asked.

To Erik's relief, he nodded.

"All right," said Erik, setting up the board and giving him a glass of scotch. Erik let him choose which color he wanted to play, which turned out to be white, so Erik settled for black. The mutant proved to be a much more challenging opponent than he expected. He somehow had thought they didn't play chess in brothels, but he supposed that they must do something else with their time on occasion. Chess being a harmless thing to let a slave entertain himself with. 

So many questions occurred to Erik to ask him, but he knew he would get no answers, so he kept silent. He wished he at least knew why he wouldn't talk. He'd never heard of anyone being so stubborn about it.

Erik won after a hard fought battle. He still had plenty of time, so they reset the board for another match. Erik observed fondly the mutant's furrowed brow, clearly deep in concentration. While the silence was comfortable, even endearing in a way, Erik felt the need to speak, to fill it with something, as they strategized.

"My name is Erik," he told him. He figured that was a good icebreaker as any.

Blue, attentive eyes met his, temporarily abandoning the board.

"I'm from Dusseldorf, Germany," Erik continued, encouraged by the mutant's rapt expression. "I travel a lot now, and rarely return to my homeland. No reason to. My family was murdered by Sebastian Shaw."

The shorter man's eyes widened in concern, his hand gently alighting on Erik's. This warmed him deeply. Amazing how the simplest of gestures from this man effected him so profoundly.

Still, Erik dropped his gaze, not quite able to face the raw empathy directed at him. Yet, here was someone who understood what he'd gone through. For the first time ever, Erik felt the powerful urge to tell someone the whole story. Game forgotten, the mutant listened intently while Erik talked.

"I grew up in Dusseldorf with my mother and father. Humans, all of us. My mother home schooled me, so I spent quite a bit of time at home with her. My father headed a successful bank. We were quite well off because of his job. They never spent much of their fortune, saying they wanted to save it for me. It makes me wonder if they knew, somehow, what was coming. That soon, their fortune would be all I had left of them.

I knew about the war with the mutants, of course, though for the longest time it did not effect me personally. It was just something I read about in the papers. I didn't understand it then, but I know my parents were worried. As the mutants were hunted down, my mother and I kept mostly to the house. I never understood why. We were both human. What did we have to worry about?" 

Erik paused, gathering to himself the strength to continue. He noticed that sometime during his storytelling, the mutant had moved his other hand, so that now both of his hands rested on Erik's. Erik met his soft gaze for a moment, then continued, averting his gaze.

"It was my tenth birthday. I was tired of being cooped up in the house for no apparent reason. I managed to persuade my parents to take me out for the day, not budging one inch when they offered to bring all kinds of things to the house instead. They wanted me to be happy." Erik's voice, filled with pain, grew quieter. "We were leaving the city when my mother said she forgot something. I was under the impression she wanted to retrieve my birthday present. She didn't get far from us in the crowd when the soldiers arrested her. My father and I fought to get to her, but it was impossible. The last thing I remember is being grabbed, the city gates closing, and my mother's desperate face. I blacked out in terrible pain, I think from being hit in the head.

 When I woke up, my mother and father were shackled to a wall outside a strange building, that I later learned was one of Shaw's facilities. We didn't have much time together before Shaw came out and shot them in front of me. My mother's last words were to be calm no matter what, everything would be all right, that I was completely human."

Erik did not realize how clearly his agony showed on his face. The mutant stroked his hands soothingly with his thumbs, eyes intent on Erik. Erik focused on the movement for a moment before continuing.

"Shaw, however, was not satisfied. He tortured me until he was sure that I had no mutations. He refused to answer any questions about my parents, saying that they were subhuman and did not matter. He did not listen when I argued they were human. They had no special mutations!

Eventually he was satisfied, and let me go. He gave me the gun he shot my parents with, as a twisted parting gift. I would have shot him right then and there with it, but he was smart enough to empty it of ammunition first. I still carry it with me. Now, all I have left is avenging them. That is why it was so difficult for me to stay. Shaw is still out there, somewhere, working secretly for the government. I travel constantly, searching. I will not rest until he is dead by the gun he shot my parents with."

Erik met his gaze again. For one wild moment, he was sure the mutant would speak, the desire to respond clear in his eyes and posture. The moment passed, and the silent man cupped Erik's face instead, stroking with his thumbs, wiping a tear that Erik did not know had escaped. Erik closed his eyes, taking comfort in the gesture. 

They finished the game they abandoned earlier in complete silence. The mutant won. Erik gladly conceded the victory, grateful for the quiet understanding he'd received, easing the pain and burden of his past. The whole experience made him see his muteness in a new light. There was something endearing about it now, some kind, giving edge he perceived that he didn't see before. It was nice to be listened to so attentively, willingly, without interruption. The only times he'd been listened to so well in recent memory were by the people he'd held at gunpoint, which, all things considered, didn't count. 

 Erik packed up the board and the pieces and put the set on the table with the scotch and the empty glasses. When he turned back to the mutant, the mutant's eyes were so soft, for one breathless moment, Erik thought he was going to kiss him. After a few moments, though, it became apparent that he wasn't. Instead, the mutant grabbed Erik's belt, a determined expression on his face. Erik put his hand on top of his. "Hey, not until you're better," he reprimanded gently.

The mutant hesitated, looking doubtful and questioning.

Erik felt his face heat up a bit. He wasn't one to talk about his feelings, but it seemed like he would have to, now. "I think we both know I'm not just here for sex."

The mutant retracted his hand, his entire expression brightening, coming as close to smiling as Erik had ever seen it. Erik smiled at him, atypically a bit awkward and embarrassed still for revealing how he felt. Besides, he'd never been with someone who never spoke and he still wasn't always sure how to act.

Erik left at the cue of the bells, his heart light and happy with his usual promise to be there the next night.

Erik returned to his hotel room and read a language book to wind down for the night. He hadn't progressed very far when Moira dropped by. They settled in the sitting area, strategizing over Erik's drawing of the layout of the brothel. Moira requested more details, so Erik promised to provide them next time.

"You'll be interested to know that I dug up some of your mutant's history," Moira said. "I thought it might be useful."

Erik looked up at her intently.

"It wasn't hard. Previous owners, at least, are on public record. Poor guy has been passed around like a hot potato, from correctional facilities and brothels to more correctional facilities and brothels. That is probably the reason why a cheap man like Pilas was able to afford him when he's level five. He bought him three years ago."

"Did you find out his name?" Erik asked, fighting to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

"That was harder," Moira admitted. "That isn't listed in his record. When he was first arrested and enslaved, it listed him as a nameless level five mutant kept drugged in a Westchester, New York facility. There are no records associated with his number before that. But," she said triumphantly, "I compared that record to various others to find out who had been arrested around that place and time. A Kurt Marko was given a hefty reward for turning over a level five mutant, who happened to be his stepson."

Erik stared in horror. "He turned over his own stepson? And you think it was  our mutant?"

"I'm positive," Moira said, her expression no less disgusted. "Level fives are fairly uncommon, and there weren't any others in Westchester around that time. Anyway, it was unusual that his name wasn't recorded. I'm thinking this Kurt Marko bribed the right people to have it struck from the record to hide it from someone- possibly his wife, Sharon Xavier."

"So we don't know his name," Erik concluded, disappointed.

"I haven't finished yet!" Moira chided, smiling, her doe eyes bright. "So, I looked up census records taken just after our mutant was born. A Charles Francis Xavier was born to Brian and Sharon Xavier about twenty five years ago. I think it's him."

"Charles Francis Xavier," Erik repeated. Somehow, it fit. "Was he born a mute?" From the way Pilas talked, he doubted it, but who knew.

"Medical records aren't public, so I have no way of knowing. I thought about trying to contact Sharon, because it's possible she would be interested in helping, but when I dug around, I found out she died of cancer ten years ago. There is no one left to ask. Kurt died in a car crash a few years back, and Charles's stepbrother, Cain, is enslaved. He was arrested a year after Charles was, but not through Kurt." She paused, sickened at what that implied. "There was also a level three mutant that Kurt turned in with Charles, named Raven Darkholme, but there appears to be no relation."

Erik nodded, taking this all in, revolted by what Charles had gone through.

"That was all I had time for to find out. If you want to find out more about him,  you can dig up his correctional facility records. I bet they would mention if he talked or not."

They speculated over the brothel drawing a few minutes more before Moira headed out, leaving the PMS device with Erik to fiddle with. She warned him not to let anyone see it or he would get unwanted attention. While not illegal to own, it would be odd, since he did not own any slaves.

"Don't follow me, or our partnership is over," she warned him. "No offense, but I need to find out if I can really trust you before I let you come to the safe house. I'll come by again in a few days."

Erik nodded curtly in response as she walked out the door.

That night, Erik dreamed again of the twisting metal gate, but instead of his mother slipping away, it was Charles, beaten bloody as he disappeared from reach. Erik woke up sprawled sideways on the bed, the subconscious part of him that believed Charles would be there driving him to protect that space with his own body. After gaining coherency, Erik couldn't help but worry that someone had hurt Charles again. Unfortunately, until he got him out of there, it would be impossible to protect him. 

To distract himself from the gnawing worry, Erik headed to the library again to do some research. Moira's suggestion about the correctional facility records intrigued him and he wished to pursue it. On his way to the consumer reports section, he picked up more language books. It would take time to get ready to break out Charles and he didn't want to waste it by being idle.

Erik's eyes wandered over the shelves, wondering if anything else useful could be found. A book titled, 'Guide to Psychology' caught his eye. He stopped. Maybe this would give him a clue as to why Charles didn't speak, if it wasn't a physical defect. He flipped through it until he found a section called "Selective and Progressive Mutism."

 _While it has also been said that children who suffer from selective mutism have suffered from abuse, neglect or trauma, there is no evidence of this being the case. The main difference is the fact that those children who have selective mutism almost always speak in some situations. However, those children who suffer from mutism that has been induced by trauma will simply become suddenly silent in all situations, not just "some."_

 _Another thing that doctors have noticed is that those who suffer from selective mutism also have an overly excitable amygdala. This is the part of the brain that received indications of possible threats and thus sets off the fight-or-flight response within a person. Therefore, it is believed that those who suffer from selective mutism have their speech shut down whenever they enter into a situation where they need to speak. This is because their fight response is on high and thus they see such situations as a threat to their safety._  

Erik frowned thoughtfully, thinking of how Shaw tried to torture him into showing mutation. Perhaps Charles's mutation related to speech? Could he have undergone something similar and now see it as a threat, as this book indicated as a possibility? Food for thought.

He returned the book to the shelf and continued on to the consumer reports section. In a manner sickly similar to cars, every year the government published a report on what mutants had to spend time in a corrections facility, and why, so that those buying them knew what they were getting into. Erik found the one containing Charles's identification number and began to read. 

 _Time: Spent a total of three years in various corrections facilities over the last fifteen years. Offenses: Refusal to cooperate with pleasure training. Refusal to speak. Ten escape attempts. Fights when touched. Repeated offenses with little improvement since first correction attempt. Recommendations: Keep chained at all times and out of reach of any potential weapons. Regular corrective action._

So, it sounded like he was mute the entire time he'd been enslaved at the very least. Also, Erik didn't like the sound of "regular corrective action." He searched through the library, trying to find out what, exactly, happened at these facilities, but came up with nothing. That seemed ominous. Were they afraid it would garner sympathy for the mutants if they released those details?

Erik returned to his hotel room with his language books, constructively passing the time until he saw Charles again. He also tinkered with the PMS device, trying to disable it, but with how his intuition strangely abandoned him, it proved beyond his ability, though he had no intention of giving up.

Thoughts of everything he had learned about Charles interrupted frequently, challenging his concentration. He wondered how Charles would react to being called by his real name for the first time in fifteen years. Would he like that? Should he bring up what he knew about him or would that only make him upset?

At his appointed time, he hurried to the brothel. He checked on Charles first, relieved to find that he was a least no worse off than he had been yesterday. Then, per a request Moira made, he took note of the power levels of the mutants there. Emma was a level four. He felt oddly smug and proud that Charles could wreak more destruction than she could. As he paid for his time and made his way to Charles's room, he glanced around covertly, taking note of windows, doors, and containment devices. Moira would be pleased with the detail of his next report.

Erik opened the door and pulled the lever down. He turned to the bed, where Charles sat relaxed, a welcoming glow in his eyes. Erik smiled at the lovely sight. "Charles," he greeted, eagerly anticipating his response.

Charles stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"Your name is Charles Francis Xavier. Isn't it?" Erik prodded, sitting down beside him and pouring the usual Scotch. Maybe Moira had made a mistake.

Slowly he nodded, his expression more blank than Erik liked, though there was something soft about it too.

"Is it okay if I call you by your name?" Erik asked. He didn't want to upset him.

Charles took the glass and nodded again. 

Erik smiled in relief. "You're probably wondering how I know. My friend Moira and I have been trying to figure out how to make things better for you." He didn't want to get Charles's hopes up, so he didn't get more specific. "We thought knowing more about you would help, so we did some research."

Charles glanced between him and the cards Erik pulled out of his pocket, listening respectfully.

"I thought we'd try a different game this time. Ever play Euchre?"

Charles shook his head. He listened attentively as Erik explained the rules, scoring, and object of the game. They agreed on hand gestures for pick it up, pass, declaring suit, and shoot the moon. Charles caught on quick and beat him the first game. 

As Erik shuffled the deck for another round, he asked, "Was Raven your girlfriend?" He didn't want to bring up bad memories, but he longed to know more about him.

Charles eyes snapped up to his, cards scattering as he grabbed Erik's arm, a desperate look in his eyes. After a few moments, he seemed to remember that a question had been asked, so he shook his head no, his grip and expression not easing any.

"You were a bit young for that," Erik agreed, somewhat sheepish. "She meant something to you though. Have you heard what happened to her?"

Charles blinked rapidly, shaking his head, breathing uneven. 

"Hey," Erik said gently, putting his cards down so he could grip Charles's shoulders in what he hoped was a soothing manner. "I know she's still alive. I could find out where she is, if you want."

For a split second, Erik thought he saw a smile skim across Charles's face, causing his breath to catch. Gratitude glowed in the mutant's eyes. A thrill of adrenaline surged through Erik as the tension sizzled between them, eyes locking. Was Charles going to jump him? Breathlessly Erik held still while Charles leaned forward, kissing him briefly, chastely, before pulling back and gathering up his cards back into his hand, his face a bit flushed. 

"I will try to know by the next time I come," Erik promised, his heart swelling from the simple gesture, even if it hadn't gone as far as he wanted. The kiss touched every part of him, lingering long after it ended. "How about Cain?"

A shadow passed through Charles's averted eyes. Slowly, he shook his head no. 

"Like father, like son," Erik concluded knowingly. "Kurt Marko, I mean."

Charles's expression closed, carefully neutral as he nodded. His tense posture betrayed his intense anger at his stepfather, despite his efforts to hide it.

"You will be pleased to know then, that Kurt died in a car accident a few years ago," Erik said, happy to give him more good news. Charles's shoulders dropped a little as he relaxed again. He still didn't meet his gaze, though. "Your mother died of cancer ten years ago."

Charles glanced up in acknowledgement, then indicated he should pick up the card Erik flipped over. Clearly, he wished to move on and continue the game. 

Erik regarded him thoughtfully. It seemed that Charles, despite his parent's wealth, did not live a happy life even before his enslavement. 

Charles forming his right hand in a mimicry of a gun and 'shooting' it at the ceiling interrupted his musing. Erik grinned in disbelief. "In all the time I've played this, I've never shot the moon, and you get to already! You're on." He grinned in challenge.

Charles's eyes laughed in response as he set down both the right and left bower, forcing Erik to give up the only trump he had. Needless to say, Charles won the game by a large margin, Erik laughing good naturedly about having his ass whipped by a newbie. Charles's own face glowed with the fun, and Erik found himself falling a little more for him at the welcome sight.

"Hey. Let me check your bandages?" Erik asked. Charles nodded, stripping to his briefs, allowing Erik to tend to him. He still shook, but not as bad as the first time. Erik wondered what Charles saw in him that made him trust him, when he didn't trust anyone else. Why didn't he ever fight him, as his records indicated he would? Surely he wasn't the only person who had tried being kind to him.

Before pulling his clothes back on, Charles reached for Erik's belt. 

"Not yet. Not until you're better," Erik said, laying a gentle hand over his. Charles stared at him a moment before removing his hand, features soft. They finished the Scotch in companionable silence. Erik left with a promise to be back the next day with news of Raven, pleased with the renewed spark that brought to Charles's eyes.

That night in the shower, Erik remembered the moment he thought Charles wanted to jump him. His underlying sexual frustration of being there with him, on that bed, tension unresolved, coiled in him. He allowed his fantasies to run away with him as he pumped himself with his hands. Charles, free of his chains, a coy smile on his face while he straddled him, naked. Charles, using his power on him. Erik imagined the possibilities - super strength, telepathy, weather control, countless different erotic scenarios driving him closer to the edge. Charles, his own man, choosing to stay with him. Erik moaned with pleasure at that thought, reaching his peak. A vision of Charles, laid out beneath him, writhing in pleasure at Erik's presence inside him, drove him over.

He finished his shower and climbed into bed, the much needed release easing him into sleep despite his continued anxiety over what Charles might be subjected to without Erik there to protect him.


	5. I Want To Be With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By reader request, Charles POV!

I Want To Be With You

 _Black Rook to C4. White Knight to B12._  

Charles stared blankly at the too familiar red wall he was chained to, playing the mental chess game he'd practiced for years to entertain himself. While the chip completely blocked his telepathy, it did not inhibit his eidetic memory or his superior control over his own bodily functions and sensations. While many times his perfect memory burdened him, replaying horrible experiences with all too perfect clarity, it also allowed for entertainment like this, or brilliantly detailed recall of Raven, so he wouldn't trade it for anything. Right now he reenacted the first chess game between Erik and himself, trying to figure out where he'd left an opening to be checkmated so Erik couldn't exploit it the next time.

At least, he hoped there would be a next time.

In the past, every so often someone grew infatuated with him and visited regularly, as Erik did now. Yet, they weren't kind like Erik. While more tolerable than his average customer, they still forced him to comply, thinking he'd come around if he realized how 'good' they were. He resisted them with his superior control, dulling the sensations and preventing himself from gaining an involuntary erection. Eventually, they grew bored and frustrated with him, ceasing their visits. 

With Erik, it was different. He desperately did not want him to grow bored and quit coming. Erik never forced him into anything and actually seemed to care about him. Despite his obvious attraction, he held back for Charles's sake, even when he freely offered him a blow job. Charles had not been touched in an affectionate, nonsexual, nonviolent way since Raven, and Erik filled his desire for that. He'd snuck him the first alcohol he'd ever had, become a much longed for chess parter, and talked to him like the intelligent being Charles was. Treated him like an equal. 

His control, his vow to never gain an erection from anyone so long as he was enslaved, never had been tested so dearly before. It didn't help that Erik was also the most attractive person he'd ever met. Never before had the battle between fear, desire, and stubbornness been so intense as when Erik offered to give him a blow job in return for his.

But Charles couldn't quite master his automatic fears from years of being forced and hurt. Part of him grew blank and dull from that treatment, but his perfect memory did not allow him to withdraw entirely, vivid, horrifying scenes playing out in his mind's eye, keeping him as chained to reality as his body was.

Erik slowly eased that fear now, with his patient acceptance of whatever Charles had to offer. Was this what infatuation felt like? Charles wanted to show him how he made him feel, but he couldn't quite bring himself to. Not yet.

Charles refocused on his chess game, playing it a few more times before he picked apart his moves that lead to his downfall. If Erik decided to play chess again with the same tactics, he would be ready for him. 

Charles breathed deeply, controlling his body's need to shake. He wished he could sit down instead of being forced to stand here, waiting for someone to pick him. Especially now, when he was still trying to recover from his 'experience' with that blond, blue eyed man who wielded sharp objects with far too much skill, managing to best his ability to suppress the pain. Charles did not fantasize about regaining his telepathy and showing the man how it made him feel - he wasn't masochistic with that impossibility. According to his owners, his mutation was permanently suppressed. But he did daydream wistfully about Erik bursting in and rescuing him, thrashing the man soundly enough that he didn't dare hurt him anymore. 

If Erik did that for him, he didn't think he would be able to hold himself back anymore, despite his fear. It was only a fantasy, though. In reality, Charles didn't want Erik anywhere near that man. He could easily get hurt, or worse. 

Finally one of Pilas's assistants strode over and unchained him from the wall, leading him to the small dining room for the final meal of the day. Charles eased himself down to the floor in relief with his soup as he was chained in his usual corner. Since he did not speak, most of the other slaves ignored him, but occasionally Emma made an effort to reach out, today being one of those times.

She sat down beside him on the gaudy red carpeting, unchained because of the locked door and special privileges from 'good' behavior. She never understood his stubborn refusal to cooperate or try to make the best of things, causing her disdainful attitude towards him. Still, they tolerated each other more than the other slaves tolerated either of them. Charles supposed at least some part of her respected the strength of his convictions, and he appreciated her attempt to reach out.

"You're actually looking forward to him coming, aren't you?" Emma commented shrewdly as they ate their soup, taking note of his straightened posture, relaxed features and the bright, alert look in his eye.

Charles glanced at her, nodding his admittance, not needing any clarification as to who she meant.

"Finally enjoying yourself?" she asked, smirking. Through process of elimination, and yes and no questions, she'd found out quite a bit about him these past three years, including how good he controlled himself.

Charles glanced at her but made no indication either way.

"You make everything more complicated than it needs to be," she complained. "You're lucky. He's handsome and not too bad in bed. You should enjoy him while you can."

Charles frowned at her reminder that Erik had been with her too. While he'd felt only hurt at the time, that hurt now faded to jealousy. Yet, he had no one to blame but himself and his own fears and convictions, which he couldn't quite give up yet, even for Erik.

"You're so stubborn," she said, mostly exasperated, but Charles could detect fondness there as well. "Has he hurt you?" Her eyes softened in concern, belying her disdainful tone. 

Charles shook his head. He knew Emma wasn't referring to the one time Erik chose her over him, since she saw nothing wrong with him doing that, and he'd forgiven Erik anyway. No one had ever apologized to him before. It made up for the hurt Erik caused.

"Then what's your problem?" she asked, more rhetorically than anything else, since she knew she wouldn't get an answer. She doubted she would understand his reasoning anyway. "Why are you looking forward to him coming, then? If you aren't enjoying it?"

Charles frowned at the miscommunication. He did enjoy it, but not in the way she meant, at least, not yet. Seeing the napkins, he gave her a playful look and folded them like cards, gathering them in his hands in a mimicry of Euchre. He also gave her another meaningful glance as he drank his water in an exaggerated way.

Emma stared at him in shock. "You mean, all this time, you've been in there drinking and playing _cards?_ "

Unable to clarify, Charles just nodded. 

" _Men,_ " she grumbled, rolling her eyes. They finished their soup in silence, with Emma still shooting him disbelieving looks.

Charles docilely allowed himself to be led back and chained to the red lineup wall, his strength renewed. He even didn't bother to fight when Pilas combed his hair and put a bit of makeup on his face to freshen up his looks, causing the overweight man to stare at him in confusion before moving on. Any time now, and Erik would arrive. If he was going to. Charles kept glancing hopefully at the front door, or at least what was visible of it through the line of other mutants.

After a few other clients came in, thankfully choosing Emma and another mutant, Erik strode in, causing Charles's chest to expand in a pleasant, unfamiliar way. However, Charles immediately noticed his stiff movement, concerned. What happened to him?

Erik hurried over to him, barely containing his limp, his face schooled into a neutral visage, obviously trying to hide his pain. "You okay?" he asked when he reached his side.

Charles nodded absently, staring at him in question, putting a tentative hand on his arm, hoping he'd get the message. He gestured towards him with his other hand, accursed chains clinking.

Erik got it. "Oh, this is nothing. Just had a bit of a... disagreement with a friend of mine. I'll tell you about it later."

Charles nodded and willingly cooperated when he was led to his room, where his chains were locked to the chains in the wall. He waited eagerly on the bed, wondering what Erik planned this time, knowing he'd be there shortly. He glanced at the bedside table, seeing the massage oil among other things. He grabbed it. He bet Erik would appreciate it today after his "disagreement", whatever that had been.

Charles heard the door open and the blessed sound of the chains extending. This allowed him more freedom of movement than he ever had otherwise. He got up from the bed, oil in hand, eyes twinkling in welcome.

Erik smiled at him. "Thank you," he said simply, stripping to his boxers and lying face down on the bed. "Though I still think I should be the one massaging you," Erik reminded him, glancing up at him.

Charles shook his head, setting to work, finally putting genuine effort into doing the things he'd been taught during his training. Erik relaxed, some of the stiffness leaving his posture. Charles almost smiled.

"I found out what happened to Raven," said Erik after a minute.

Charles stilled reflexively in anticipation. The excitement of finally knowing what happened to his adopted sister had been simmering in the back of his mind all day. The fact that Erik had actually followed through with his promise triggered that strange, warm, expansive feeling in his chest again. Erik met his eyes by twisting his head to the side,smiling at the eager expression on Charles's face.

"She stayed at the Westchester facility for awhile, like you did, though in a separate area. They did not drug her."

Charles let out a relieved breath. His time under the drugs had been unpleasant to say the least. Absently, he resumed his massage.

"Then they chipped her and sold her to her first owner. He sent her to a correctional facility after a few weeks."

Charles's hands stilled again, this time in horror. His experiences there had been bad enough with his ability to control himself. Without it, he couldn't imagine how bad it had been for Raven. The solitary confinement. The starvation, the deprivation of water. The standing for hours, and being forced into manual labor, flogged if he tried to refuse or faltered, to name a few of their 'correctional' methods.

Erik met his horrified gaze and hurried to reassure. "She only stayed a week. She hasn't been to a correctional facility since."

Charles restarted the massage, relaxing a little.

"She stayed with her first owner a little while longer, then she was sold. She is still with her second owner. I'm not sure what tasks she does there, but I assume a cook, maid, librarian, and housekeeper judging by what kind of education she was allowed."

At least she'd been spared the indignity of brothel work. Thank god for that. One less thing to keep him up at night.

"The only other thing I was able to find out is that she is rated a level three."

Charles nodded, unsurprised. While not outwardly destructive like he could be, her shapeshifting was still impressive and could wreck a lot of havoc if unleashed. He indicated for Erik to roll over so he could do his front. 

Erik complied, their gazes locked heatedly as they both recalled what happened last time they were in this position. Charles leaned down and kissed him briefly, wordlessly thanking him for the long, desperately desired news of Raven. He drew back, feeling oddly tingly all over. As he continued the massage, the bruising on Erik's chest caught his eye, so he gestured towards it in question.

"Yes, I promised I would tell you about that, didn't I?" Erik mused. Charles listened closely as Erik told his story.

 _Erik flipped through the library records, searching for all mentions of Raven Darkholme from Westchester, when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Turning, he saw it was Moira._

 _"I thought I'd find you here," she said, smiling. "I have some news for you. Will you meet me at the park in a half hour?"_

 _Erik nodded, returning to his hunt after she left. When a half hour had passed, he dutifully headed to the park and sat on a bench, waiting for Moira._

 _She appeared a few minutes later, but remained standing, despite Erik's invitation for her to join him on the bench. "You never told me that your parents were mutants," she said, hands on her hips._

 _"That's because they weren't, but Shaw killed them anyway," Erik replied bitterly. Why did she have to bring this up?_

 _"Actually, I have evidence that at least one of you was a mutant," she insisted. "I've been looking into your background, Erik Lehnsherr."_

 _"Oh?" replied Erik, unimpressed. "What evidence is that?"_

 _"Eyewitnesses in Dusseldorf when you all were arrested."_

 _"Then you already know it wasn't me. I was unconscious for most of it."_

 _Moira frowned. "What is the last thing you remember?"_

 _"The gates closing, then a terrible pain in my head," Erik informed her flatly._

 _"No, you were conscious for longer than that," Moira insisted. "More than one person confirmed that."_

 _"It's all I remember," Erik said firmly._

 _"Then let me fill you in on what people saw that day," she said._

 _"Okay," said Erik cautiously._

 _"The gates closed and locked, as you remember. Police herded people away from them by force. So no one was touching the gate when you and your father, the closest ones to it, reached out for it, but unable to grab it due to being pushed back. Then, seemingly by itself, the gate bent towards you both and broke, swinging back open. You and your father were holding hands as you both were dragged powerfully forward to the gate by an invisible force that even the police couldn't match. No one had touched your head yet when you screamed and fell to the ground, your dad immediately dropping with you to make sure you were okay. At that moment, the invisible force wreaking the gate and dragging you stopped. The police picked you up, as you were unconscious, when your father started shouting, 'It was me! It was me!' "_

 _"No," insisted Erik, horrified. "No, there must be some mistake. He was human, we all were, I know it."_

 _"That was when you were both arrested, dragged into the police car with your mother, and taken who knows where. No one ever saw your parents again, but a few neighbors of yours remember a teenage Erik Lehnsherr returning years later, collecting his fortune and settling his affairs before leaving town, never to be seen again."_

 _Erik stared at the ground, remembering the last part._

 _"You know, Erik. The people I talked to said it could have just as easily been you manipulating the gate, and not your father. Given the fact that you-"_

"Then this strange red haze flooded my vision," Erik told Charles, brow furrowed. "It was like someone else was manipulating me and pulling the strings. I charged Moira, saying that she was wrong, my whole family was human, including me, when I sensed something large rush up behind me. I turned around and ducked out of the way, thinking someone had thrown a table at me, but it was a _man._ I shouted to Moira, see, it wasn't just metal, it was an intuitive danger sense, like I'd been saying all along! He kept coming at me, trying to pin me, saying 'bring it, bub!' We had quite a tussle before Moira finally called him off. She introduced him to me as her friend, Logan, who acted as a lookout and a bodyguard of sorts. I recognized him as the drinking, smoking man I had avoided in the alley when I first met Moira." Erik smiled to himself in memory. 

"So then, Moira pointed out that Logan has an adamantium skeleton, and I didn't believe her until Logan discreetly unsheathed his claws into a bush. She started trying to use that persuade me she was right, that strange red haze came over me again, Logan pounced, and we fought more until Moira said, 'ok, ok, so you're human. Let's move on.' "

Charles listened raptly, his mind filled with questions. A free mutant, still in possession of his abilities? How had that happened? Also, Moira's reasoning seemed perfectly reasonable, why did Erik react like that? It seemed that even Erik didn't know.

"So, that's how I came to be like this," Erik concluded. "That metal man can sure pack a punch. Though he did say I was the most adept fighter he'd ever traded fists with." Erik smirked, but then he grew serious as he gently placed a hand on Charles's arm, halting him. "Hey. How about I check your bandages."

Charles nodded and stripped, feeling self-conscious as he did so. He caught Erik staring, causing his own face to heat. He knew the other man just wanted to check his healing progress, but Charles knew there was more behind that gaze. The first few time he'd stripped in front of him, he'd been in too much pain to give much thought the fact Erik was seeing him naked. But now, when he felt so much better, he felt all too aware, needing to use his abilities to control his arousal at being watched by this tempting man. He threw a coy look at Erik, remembering how to strip as a seduction technique from his training, utilizing that for the first time. By the way Erik's face heated in answer, the change had not been lost on him.

Charles strolled to the tub, not in his usual slumped, dragging his feet sort of way, but in the manner he'd been taught, gracefully with attention being drawn to his hips and behind. He heard Erik's breathing speed up a bit behind him, making him smile inwardly. He sprawled in the tub in no less seductive a manner, gazing coyly up at Erik, expectant. He still couldn't quite control the shaking of his limbs at being in such a vulnerable position, couldn't quite disconnect himself from the horrible things associated with it, but for the first time, he enjoyed himself a little, feeling smug at the look on Erik's face. If Erik planned on hurting him, he would have already.

Erik reached for the bandages, removing them and examining the skin underneath. "Looks like you'll do okay without bandages now," he said, his voice rougher and deeper. "Unless you want them on still?"

Charles met his questioning gaze and shook his head. He climbed out of the tub and back onto the bed, still moving in seduction mode, with Erik following and watching him, transfixed. They stared at each other a moment, the air thick with tension. "What-" Erik started, then cleared his throat nervously. "What game would you like to play tonight? Chess or Euchre? I brought both, though after the Logan incident I unfortunately forgot the Scotch." Erik set out the chess set and cards for him to choose from.

Instead, Charles snagged Erik's belt.

Erik struggled with his response, clearly wanting to give in. "Maybe tomorrow," he said. "I think you'll be well enough by then."

Charles stared at him, his fondness and trust in Erik growing a little more at his continued consideration of him. A blow job wasn't very strenuous, but Erik wanted to spare him even that until he felt better. Letting go of the belt, he dropped his gaze to the chess set, picking it up. He wanted to try out the strategies he'd worked out in his head earlier today. 

His thorough analysis of Erik's strategies paid off. Charles beat him soundly, leaving Erik staring at the board, trying to figure out how things had gone so wrong, so fast. Erik finally gave a short laugh, conceding his defeat. "Let's play Euchre now. Though if you get the kind of hands you did last time, I won't stand a chance at that either," Erik mused good-naturedly. 

Erik shuffled and dealt the cards, not noticing the way Charles admired his long fingers. Charles studied his hand and glanced at the card Erik turned over to determine trump. This was a game where strategy alone did not help. It also depended on the cards you and the other person were dealt. Random chance had rarely been in his favor previously in his life. At least it seemed to be more on his side now, he thought, thinking more of Erik than of his luck in getting good cards. He could bear this life, somehow, so long as Erik kept visiting.

The bells rang before they could finish the game. Erik packed everything away into his jacket, leaving with a promise to be there the next night. Charles watched him go, the warm, light feeling Erik's presence ignited, dying a quick death. Unconsciously, Charles allowed his posture to sink, his eyes going blank as he was led back to the line up wall in case they had any late night visitors. He knew he would not be allowed to sleep for many hours yet, so he withdrew into himself, reliving his scant memories of Raven.

He first met her shortly before his mother married Kurt, mistaking her for a burglar. When he realized she was a mutant on the run, he offered to hide her, his fledgling abilities providing enough protection to ensure her safety in the large mansion. While his mother and new stepfather were gone on their extensive honeymoon, the two of the roamed the mansion and grounds freely, the hired help paying them little mind. They spent countless hours together, bonding as a brother and sister.

Sharon had to stay away longer for a business trip, so Kurt returned without her, bringing his son, Cain. That was when everything had gone go hell. Without Charles's knowledge, Kurt had received a PMS device as a wedding present. He installed it that first day. Charles had felt something odd, but thought he was just sick or something. Raven didn't notice, not bothering to shape shift since she stayed with Charles all day in his room.

That night, Kurt burst in on Charles reading out loud to Raven, who was still in her blue form. The telepath immediately raised his hand to his temple, trying to make him forget and leave, but to no avail. Kurt, realizing what was happening, called for Cain, and between the two of them, managed to subdue the telepath and shapeshifter, tying and gagging them. The last time he saw Raven was at the police station, where they were separated into the boy and girl holding cells. She'd been crying, terrified, struggling fruitlessly to stay with him. The image haunted him for years and fueled his numerous escape attempts, despite the overwhelming odds of failure and the painful punishments that followed.

Now, the urge to escape had lessened with the intense relief of finally learning what happened to her. According to what he gleaned from Erik, she was doing as well as could be expected under the circumstances. Maybe Erik would bring more news eventually. Maybe, if Erik succeeded or gave up in his vendetta, and settled down, he'd buy her and have her as his housekeeper. That fantasy entertained him for the rest of the night. What a relief it would be if he did that. Charles would not worry about her anymore.

Finally he was led back to his bed to sleep. Normally his worries about Raven and the memories of his various unpleasant encounters kept him awake, but for once, this wasn't the case. He immediately gave in to slumber, relieved to remain unchosen by anyone but Erik that day.


	6. I'll Fight and Give Up For You

I'll Fight and Give Up For You

Erik lounged on the park bench, his sunglasses protecting his eyes from the bright sun, his posture still a bit stiff. He amused himself by reminiscing his fight yesterday with Logan. The exhilaration of the fight made up for any resentment for the surprise attack. Truth be told, he hoped to have another go with him, and somehow, he thought Logan did too.

He finally spotted Moira, so after a minute, he got up to follow her at a discreet distance, gait stiff. He hoped he would not have to travel far. He wanted to save his energy for tonight.

He wove his way through the main street, keeping a casual air as he kept Moira in his line of sight. She finally agreed to trust him with the location of the safe house, but she didn't want them to be seen together, thus this arrangement was made. He glanced around, trying to see if he could spot Logan, but no such luck. The man had acquired the much needed survival tactic of stealth very well. Either that, or he wasn't here.

Erik passed under the black and white "Barber Rowle's" sign, taking a quick peek inside as he passed. The blond, blue-eyed barber waved his scissors in a disturbing fashion as he vehemently made some remark to his customer. Erik frowned a moment, doing a double take at the man in the chair. It was Pilas! 

Erik's eyes widened at this revelation. Rowle had gone to "Exotic Pleasures", then. A horrible thought entered Erik's mind without his bidding. What if Rowle had been the one to attack Charles? Then it would be his fault, since Rowle hadn't known about the place until he'd said something. Feeling cold, Erik hurried forward. 

Moira led him through a few back alleys, seeming to head in no particular direction. Suddenly she stopped and opened a black door to a windowless brick building, disappearing inside. Erik followed a few minutes later and entered through the same door. Moira greeted him in the brightly lit, narrow foyer.

"You made it," she said, her smile tight. "I'll give you a tour."

Erik pocketed his sunglasses and followed her deeper into the building, the wood floor creaking under his feet. He realized the tactical advantage of the narrow hallway and noisy floor. People would have difficulty sneaking in, and if someone did storm the place they could only come in one at a time. The narrow, white walled hallway opened up to the living room. A black man sat on the couch, reading a newspaper. 

"This is Darwin," Moira introduced him, "Darwin, this is Erik."

Darwin lowered his newspaper, expression friendly. "Erik, welcome to the cause."

Erik nodded shortly.

"Darwin is a mutant who volunteered to stay in order to help other mutants find their way to Switzerland. He adapts to survive, so it makes it very difficult for the slavers to catch him," Moira explained.

"Brave," Erik commented, somewhat impressed.

"I do what I can," Darwin acknowledged.

They moved on to the next room, which happened to be the kitchen. Logan sat at the large table, drinking beer and sporting his usual grumpy look.

"Is it just you three?" asked Erik, surprised.

"Right now, yes," Moira confirmed. "Darwin stays here mostly and I do a lot of the legwork. Logan comes and goes through the network of safe houses, acting as a sort of security man where there is news of trouble. Sometimes we get a lot more people passing through. Other times it's just me, Darwin, and the mutant friendly contacts we have around town."

Erik watched as Logan downed his beer in one go, adding the empty can to the impressive pile of cans beside him. He wondered if the 'news of trouble' had anything to do with his false lead that a Shaw associate lived in this town.

Logan noticed his stare. "Part of my mutation is a fast metabolism," he explained. "I can drink anyone under the table. Or smoke, for that matter."

"Exceptional," said Erik. Moira and Erik continued on. She showed him the many bedrooms and bathrooms, the makeshift medical emergency room, and the storage room. Erik got the impression of extra rooms- secret passages, maybe - that she didn't show him, but he sensed intuitively anyway.

Tour complete, the four of them lounged around the living room, chatting. Darwin entertained Erik with his mutation, challenging him to a fight, which Darwin won handily. Erik blamed it, laughingly, on being sore, but he knew better. Even Logan, with his instantaneous healing, couldn't best him. Moira tolerated the roughhousing, explaining that they actually intended the living room to be used to teach mutants to defend themselves, hence she minimized the breakables in the area.

Erik enjoyed himself so much, he lost track of time, despite his eagerness to see Charles. Finally realizing that he might be a little late, he excused himself and headed to the brothel for his nightly visit. When he arrived, Erik glanced up and down the lineup, his eyes widening slightly in dismay when he saw Charles being unchained from the wall to be led away. He hurried to the man doing it, his temper starting to flare already. "What are you doing? I have a standing appointment to be with him every night," growled Erik.

Charles's eyes lit up, seeing that it was Erik. His gaze quickly turned desperate and pleading, though, reaching out to Erik, clearly saying he didn't want to be with whomever had claimed him before Erik did.

"He was quite insistent on having time with him, and you didn't arrive on time, so we had to give the slot to him," the man holding his mutant's chains said, gesturing to the man at the counter.

Erik glanced at the blond man at the counter. Recognition made his eyes bug slightly in shock. It was the barber, Rowle! His heart sank, his worst fears realized. This was his fault. He should never have told him about this place!

He glanced back at his mutant. "Is he the one who did this to you?" demanded Erik, gesturing vaguely to his almost healed injuries, heart sinking.

The mutant nodded.

Erik saw _red._  

He stormed up to Rowle, shaking with a mad rage. He gave him his best serial killer smile. "That's my mutant you're messing with," he said dangerously. "How about we go outside and settle this. Shall we?"

Rowle looked uncertain for a moment. Apparently having an opponent who could actually fight back wasn't so appealing to him. Then he grinned cruelly. "Fine. That'll be two people I'll beat to a pulp tonight," he said. "I knew you were pro-mutant! You just didn't want to admit it!"

Erik heard a frantic rattle of chains behind him. He turned around. His mutant was trying to get to him, shaking his head frantically. Clearly, he didn't want Erik to fight and get hurt on his account. Knowing firsthand how badly it hurt, he probably didn't want Erik to suffer the same thing. "Sorry," Erik said, not sounding sorry at all. "But this is one thing I'm going to do, regardless of what you want." He tore himself away from his mutant's terrified gaze.

Erik followed the barber outside, confident of his chances, not bothering to shut the malfunctioning door properly behind him. He'd been in fights his whole life. He couldn't remember the last one he'd lost. Mutants were prohibited from learning any kind of combat, so Charles never had a chance to begin with. This bastard wouldn't know what hit him. The only reason he waited to start the fight until they got outside was because he didn't want to be banned from the brothel. Clearly, Rowle didn't either.

It was late enough that the street was mostly deserted, the air cooling down from the heat of the day, shadows lengthening. Rowle threw the first punch, which Erik dodged easily. Taking a quick glance at the man's hands, he realized he was wearing those metal knuckles. This played in Erik's favor. Rowle probably thought the knuckles would help him smash Erik to a pulp, but in reality it gave him the distinct advantage of knowing where the barber's hands were without looking.

Trying to punch Erik solidly was like trying to hold water in his hands. This only increased Rowle's rage and made him more erratic. Despite being worn out from all the fights lately, it really was too easy for Erik to land a few solid punches that knocked him to the ground, gasping in pain, blood shooting out of his nose.

"If you touch him again, I will not hesitate to kill you," stated Erik seriously.

Rowle glared at him hatefully. "Not if I kill you first," he threatened, but limped away, clutching his nose, clearly needing medical attention and going to find it. Erik doubted he would bother to come back for a few days, at least, if he was stupid enough to try. By then, hopefully, he would have his mutant at the safe house.

His mutant. When did he start saying that? Charles wasn't his, and never would be. Who was he kidding?

Erik reentered the brothel, unconcerned about Rowle's threat. "It's settled," he informed Pilas, who didn't need to ask what was meant by that, having witnessed the fight from the doorway. "Where's the mutant? The 'stubborn' one?" Erik asked, concerned, not seeing him anywhere.

"Took three of us to restrain him. Tried to break loose to get to you two. He's chained in his room now." He didn't tell Erik, but they would have disciplined the mutant severely for his disobedience if they hadn't strongly suspected that it would piss off Erik big time. Since he was becoming a valued customer, they decided to let it go until Erik got bored and quit coming, and told the mutant so.

Erik headed to the now familiar room, opening the door, locking it, and automatically yanking the lever down. He'd barely turned around when he heard the rapid, oncoming rattling of the chain and found himself with an armful of mutant. Erik, stunned for a moment, recovered and hugged him back.

When Charles pulled back, all Erik could do was stare, because for the first time, the mutant was smiling - and it was the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen. But he wasn't done shocking Erik. He reached up, holding Erik's face in his hands, kissing him fiercely. Erik froze for a moment, before gathering his wits enough to respond with enthusiasm.

It was like a tsumani had been unleashed. Gone was the hesitancy of before. Charles pushed Erik against the door, pressing every inch of himself against him, kissing him with all the passion that was in him. Erik kissed back aggressively, matching him step for step, his hands wandering everywhere, overjoyed to be finally touching his mutant freely. The shorter man stepped back from the door, and they wrestled each other to the bed, tearing off each other's clothes, touching and kissing every piece of skin they could reach. Erik noted, with satisfaction, that for the first time, his mutant was growing hard for him.

After another minute of their frantic exploration, Charles put both hands on Erik's shoulders, signaling for him to stop. Erik groaned reluctantly and with a depth of willpower he didn't know he had, he pulled back.

But the mutant wasn't wanting to stop completely. His intentions became clear when he grabbed lube from the bedside table, handed it to Erik, then laid back down with his legs spread, looking up at him expectantly.

"You are...offering yourself to me?" asked Erik huskily, going impossibly hard at the thought.

Charles nodded.

At this point, he didn't have enough brain cells left to think about clarifying his mutant's motives. He just knew he wanted it. Erik slicked up his fingers and prepared them both as gently and thoroughly as he could, smiling smugly when he hit Charles's prostate with his fingers, causing him to buck with a surprised yelp. So his vocal chords did work.

That merited more exploration.

Erik entered him slowly, kissing him and stroking him to help him relax and adjust. Charles shook like a leaf, his breath hitching in something that was too close to sobs for Erik's comfort. Erik made to pull out, gasping, "We don't have to do this," but the mutant firmly wrapped his shaking arms and legs around him, making his wishes clear. Once Erik was sure he was comfortable, he began thrusting, aiming for his prostate, glorying in the noises he got his still shaking mutant to make whenever he hit it dead on. Erik couldn't remember ever feeling more pleasure than he did in his moment, their deep connection sizzling between them, making this all more meaningful than it had ever been to Erik before.

Erik came first with a grunt, collapsing on top of the trembling man, who came shortly after. Erik took in his overwhelmed, teary face. For a man who was forced to work in a brothel, his reaction seemed...off. Erik thought back to all the times the mutant had refused to allow him to reciprocate, a suspicion forming in his mind. "Was this the first time you have ever orgasmed?" asked Erik bluntly.

The mutant nodded, something in his eyes looking a bit more broken than Erik liked. As if he liked any kind of broken look on this man's face.

Erik could only guess at the man's motives for shutting himself out from getting whatever pleasure he could from his work, but it was much easier to deduce than his determination not to speak. "They can force you do to this, but they can't force you to orgasm, can they? Is that why you never did, before? To retain your dignity?"

The blue eyed man nodded in confirmation, still looking a little miserable.

"And I just ruined it for you," Erik concluded. Erik kissed him as if in apology, but he wasn't going to apologize. He would get him out of here, then it wouldn't matter. He wouldn't be forced into anything again.

He kissed Erik back, still shaky, submissive and pliant underneath him, communicating his acceptance of the situation. They stayed like that for several long minutes before they climbed into the tub to wash off. Erik washed and massaged his back for him, which was now mostly healed. He finally relaxed under Erik's hands and gave him another stunning smile when he was done, in thanks.

"I'll come back tomorrow," Erik promised, as usual, when they heard the tinkling of the bells. Erik was truly beginning to hate the sound of bells now. Charles smiled broadly, and Erik smiled back one of his shark like grins, before leaving reluctantly.

He was so far gone for this mutant. He may as well admit to to himself, now. He was falling in love with him.

The next day, Erik finalized his plans with Moira for busting his mutant out of the brothel, getting him into the safehouse and going on to the next town to find another lead. Erik tried not to think of the inevitable separation. Tried not of think of his mutant going off with another mutant, who he would most likely highly prefer, perhaps a female, and having all kinds of mutant kids, living happily ever after somewhere without him, Switzerland probably, Erik being only a faint memory, perhaps a fond one: the man who'd given him freedom. Erik, meanwhile, alone on his road to vengeance, unable to forget him, not knowing his fate but hoping he at least hadn't been recaptured.

His life sucked. He knew it since he was ten. He held no illusions that the slave would stick around once he was free of his chains. Who would?

The night arrived, his last night with Charles before he would free him the following day. Selfishly, he wanted to have one last time with his mutant, one that he could carry with him for the rest of his life.

Charles knew something was up the moment Erik entered the room that night. But no amount of questioning, concerned looks or touches would bring Erik to tell him. When Erik collapsed on top of him for what he believed to be the last time, he couldn't help but cry to himself silently for a minute. He hadn't loved anyone like this since before his parents died. He had forgotten how wonderful it was. It was brutal to let go of it and be completely alone once more.

Charles didn't miss the fact that Erik was crying, and he rubbed soothing butterfly circles in Erik's back, deeply troubled. He had no idea what would make Erik so upset.

A noise in the corner completely wiped the concerns from the mutant's mind. Instinctively sensing imminent, grave danger, he stiffened. With a strength he didn't know he had, he flipped Erik over and shoved him to the floor, protecting him with his own body. A knife whistled through the air and nicked the mutant's ankle, which hadn't quite gotten off the bed in time in his haste to get Erik to safety. He gasped in pain.

Erik shoved up, seeing the assassin rushing towards them, feinted towards the man's legs before twisting and punching him, hard, in the stomach at the last second, making him stagger. This gave Erik time to jump to his feet and grab the knife stuck in the mattress before the other man could, crowding his mutant behind him protectively. He grappled with his attacker, having the upper hand and taking as much advantage as he could. He got a good look at the man's face when they stumbled close to the candles.

"Rowle," said Erik, all thoughts of sparing this man's life evaporating. As if Erik's anger at almost being killed wasn't enough to fuel his rage, now it was combined with his murderous fury for the man who had hurt his mutant.

Rowle never stood a chance.

With a practiced, complicated move, Erik swooped in and slit the man's throat. The man sagged in his grip, and Erik lowered the man to the floor, who was dead within moments. Erik searched his clothes, pleased when he found correspondence with Shaw. So, his tip about this town hadn't been a dead end after all, he'd just been too blind to see it, too quick to believe Rowle's anti-government stance. This was the best lead he'd had in a long time. At least one good thing happened tonight.

Erik rang the bell for assistance, and someone came to the door shortly. "Get me Pilas," hissed Erik, his blood still pounding angrily from the fight.

Pilas appeared a minute later. Erik grabbed his arm, pulling him inside and pointing to Rowle's dead body. "He just tried to kill me. Is it your policy to let murderers in private rooms?" Erik spat venomously. "You heard him threaten me yesterday!"

Pilas paled, shocked. "I have no idea how he snuck in here! I swear!"

Erik glared at him calculatingly. "Let's take this out to the hall."

Pilas followed him out.

"Don't think I'm going to keep quiet about this," Erik stated menacingly.

"No! Please don't, that would ruin me! I will make it up to you!"

"You will? How do you plan on doing that?" demanded Erik.

"The slave. I'll give you the slave!" Pilas offered desperately. "You like him, don't you? He's worth a lot of money."

Erik pretended to be reluctant about this. "You think that would be enough?"

"I'll give him to you tonight!"

Erik hesitated.

"Right now, in fact! Just don't say anything about this!"

Erik nodded, and he followed the rapidly waddling Pilas to a back room, where he was presented with keys, ownership papers, and a few other things Pilas thought he needed. Deal done, he returned to Charles's room.

He entered, taking in the mutant's pale face and the gash in the bed, made by the knife. If Charles had been one second later, he would be dead. "Thank you," said Erik. "You saved my life and risked yours in the process. I would ask how I could thank you, but I already made arrangements for the best gift I could give you."

His mutant stared curiously, waiting, as Erik approached him. Erik glanced down. "You're bleeding," he said, leading him to the bathroom to take care of his leg, delaying the moment of parting as long as he could. When he was done and bandaged, Erik had run out of excuses to delay. "I..." he started, swallowing around the lump in his throat. What did this have to be so hard? "I bought you," he started.

The mutant's face broke into a blinding grin, his eyes shining, face radiant and glowing. It stunned Erik for a minute. It was so, so tempting to just leave it there, to just steal him away for himself. But he couldn't do that. The mutant deserved far better than that.

"I haven't finished," said Erik. "I'm not going to keep you."

The mutant's face fell in dismay, his eyes betraying hurt confusion.

Erik took a deep breath. "I'm going to free you. Now, I know freeing a mutant is illegal, but I've taken care of that," he whispered. "I've been searching these past couple weeks for a safehouse and an underground railroad for mutants. I found one a couple miles away. I'm going to take you there. You'll be free to go, and I will resume my hunt for Shaw."

The mutant didn't look as excited by this prospect as Erik had expected, but he supposed it was all a lot to take in at once. When it sank in, Erik was sure he'd be over the moon to be free.

Erik removed a key from his pocket that Pilas had given him, and unlocked the chains from the wall. He gathered them in his hands and turned back to his mutant, who would not be his for much longer. "You can run at any time. I won't stop you. But, I don't think it's a good idea for you to try to escape me until we're at the safe house."

Charles nodded, his expression serious. Erik led him out of there, the mutant following and complying with his every gesture in total obedience.

The other slaves stared as they walked past, especially a stunned Emma. "Congrats, sugar," she told Charles. "Take care of him," she requested to Erik, grinning a bit suggestively, but there was something sad about her too.

"He will be," Erik promised. Emma smiled at the naked sincerity in his tone. When they exited the building, Charles stopped for a moment in wonder.

"You haven't been out of there in a long time, have you?" asked Erik.

The mutant nodded, confirming this.

Erik obligingly walked slow, allowing him to take in the sights and sounds of the outside world for the first time in maybe three years. Far too soon, they were alone in the foyer of the safe house, where Erik planned on saying his final goodbye. Erik unlocked the chains and manacles from the mutant's ankles and wrists, letting them drop and handing the key to the stunned, newly freed man. It had been worth almost being killed just to see this expression on his face as he rubbed his freed wrists.

"There's a couple more things you'll need," said Erik, his throat tight. "Here's your tracking device. You should be able to find where your tracking chip is with the help of this, and be able to take it out, if you can find a doctor to do it." Erik pressed the device into his hand. Charles seemed to be in a bit of a daze.

"I have one last gift I was able to secure for you," said Erik. "I was told that your mutation is suppressed by a chip embedded in the base of your skull. It is ill advised to try to remove it. However, I bought a device that will deactivate it, enabling you to use your mutation again. Moira has it. You can get it from her," he assured the mutant, who was now staring at Erik with a thousand stunned thank yous in his eyes.

Erik backed up quickly, sensing that he was about to be attacked with kisses. If he did that, he wasn't sure he'd be able to bring himself to leave. "I have to go - I've got this lead, now, the address on the envelope, and I've got to investigate it while the trail is fresh - no time to waste - " Erik gave one last, apologetic smile before he rushed out, cursing the tears in his eyes, thankful that the darkness hid them from the few passerby on the streets. He was tougher than this. He wouldn't cry. He continued running, planning on grabbing his things from his hotel before leaving town immediately. The more distance he put between them, the less tempting it would be to turn around.


	7. Telepathy

Telepathy

Erik strode quickly back to his hotel. The sooner he put this town behind him, the better. Maybe then the pain would stop. Charles was better off without him. He could not ask Charles to leave his safe place like he had with his parents. Look what had happened to them - seized and put to death. All his fault, they had not wanted to leave the house, but he insisted. They took the fall for his selfishness. He couldn't ask Charles to come with him, and risk him being discovered and put to death in the same way. People who got close to him paid the price. He couldn't even keep his mouth shut around Rowle, so Charles already suffered for it. 

What could he offer Charles anyway, but further enslavement, the only way he could keep him safe with him? Even if he did feel something for him? Why would he, anyway? Charles just felt very grateful towards him. Anyone would like the person who freed them, so it wasn't anything personal.

A loud, frantic voice interrupted his musings. _ERIK! ERIK, STOP!_

With one block remaining to his destination, Erik stumbled and fell, clutching his head. Emotions surged and stunned his mind. Through the strange voice and the overwhelming, painful feelings and desires swirling in his brain, he thought this oddly familiar. He got flash of lying on the ground and a hand on his shoulder before the triggered memory faded.

 _ERIK! WAIT! PLEASE!_

Rationale slowly caught up with him, sorting through the onslaught of emotions and the oddness of the experience. Still holding his head with one hand, he pushed himself to a sitting position with the other. What the fuck was going on? 

Maybe he was in shock. After all, he'd gone through a lot lately. Perhaps it was finally catching up with him. Still, he hadn't ever before been prone to hallucinating or unpredictable emotional breakdowns, and he'd certainly been through worse. 

 _I CAN HELP YOU! LET ME HELP YOU! PLEASE!_

English. His hallucination had an English accent. Where did that come from? And what about all the other emotions crashing around his brain with raw, painful intensity, making it impossible to think clearly? They seemed oddly disconnected to him, like they weren't his. A dim possibility floated to the surface of his mind, not quite taking shape yet. He struggled to a standing position, managing to stumble his way a half a block more.

 _STOP, PLEASE WAIT!_

Erik's mind blanked out a moment before he realized he couldn't move. What-? This wasn't just shock. His body felt like collapsing, but it couldn't, he couldn't so much as twitch his pinky -

 _Sorry, I'm sorry Erik, I do not have much control, my telepathy is coming in random bursts, I have to learn to control it, sorry._

Abruptly the strange force evaporated, and he fell to the ground again in surprise. He forced himself to his feet, determined to make it to the hotel, and his bed. Maybe he could sleep off this strange experience. Maybe he should stick around town longer. Yes.

 _Sorry about that too, I'm trying to reign myself in, it's not easy, just wait up, please._

The fog lifted from his thoughts, the compulsion to stay gone. He dragged himself several more feet. Erik heard uneven footsteps behind him, and turned. To his surprise, Charles was limping towards him, out of breath. He clearly had been trying to keep up with Erik, but between his injured leg and lack of conditioning, had a great deal of difficulty doing so. He stopped a short distance from Erik.

"You shouldn't run with that leg," Erik reprimanded him sternly, hoping he didn't see how red his eyes were or how raw his voice sounded.

Charles ignored him. _Erik, let me come with you,_ he said quietly, less urgently now that he was sure he had Erik's attention. His bright, shining blue eyes stared at him beseechingly. His lips, however, didn't move.

"That's...you? This is all...you?" Erik questioned, gesturing vaguely to his own head.

 _Yes. I am a telepath._

Erik dropped his other hand from his head, averting his gaze as the storm inside eased a little. "A telepath," Erik repeated, the implications sinking in. _Shit. He probably knows how badly I wish he could come with me, knows exactly how I feel about him. What else might he know? How humiliating..._ "You froze me," Erik stated, confused.

 _I can do more than just read minds. I don't have much control right now. My abilities are coming and going right now, taking me by surprise. I have to learn it all again. I'm sorry._

Erik blinked a few times as he finally identified the emotion battering at his brain: remorse. "Are you projecting?" He met Charles's gaze again.

 _Yes. I'm trying to stop-_

"It's okay," said Erik as the remorseful feeling grew. He registered their surroundings for the first time. "What are you doing here? Go back to the safehouse. There, you're free. Moira will smuggle you into Switzerland," Erik assured him.

 _No. I want to come with you. I can help you find Shaw._ Charles smiled at him eagerly, his eyes lit up, excited, confident, beseeching. 

"It's not safe. I can't keep you safe. They would discover you're a mutant sooner or later. The only way you could stay with me safely, is as my slave. I don't- I'll be fine, don't worry about me. Go back, have your freedom."

 _Erik, I can help you. With my skills, you would find Shaw sooner, wouldn't you? I could read people's minds, find out things they won't tell you. There is much with my talent that I could do for you. Please, Erik. I will do anything to go with you._

Erik felt his resolve cracking. He could never stand up to those eyes. "You would choose me, over...your freedom?" he asked in wonder.

 _Yes,_ confirmed the mutant. _Erik, there is nothing in freedom for me. Free, I'll be alone. I'll never see you again. With you, I am happier than I have ever been. You're not alone, Erik. You're not alone._

Stunned, Erik allowed a moment for this to sink in. He still didn't understand why he would give up everything to be with him. Did this mean he had feelings for him? He most likely was just grateful, latching on to the first person who was kind to him, nothing personal. Still, he truly seemed to want this, and, it being exactly what he himself wanted, made him rapidly run out of reasons to persuade him to stay free. Besides, he could not deny how useful it would be to have a telepath on his side. 

Charles grinned triumphantly, managing to pick up his agreement despite the sporadicalness of his ability to read him. He stepped a bit closer, Erik's eyes widening a bit as he did so. Regaining his power had transformed Charles. He stood up straight, confident, assertive, his expression bright, hopeful, knowing and determined. Erik swallowed nervously, wondering strangely if this was how the mortals felt when encountering a god in those Greek myths. His pale skin even seemed to glow in the dim light. His aura of  awesome power made  him appear larger than life.

Taking a breath to clear his mind, Erik glanced around to make sure no one noticed the odd way he was talking to Charles with no apparent responses. Coming to a decision, he grabbed Charles's arm and slung it over his shoulders so he could support him as they started to walk. "How about we return to the safe house to discuss this." Charles leaned onto him, pressing in close, radiating a pleasant warmth.

 _You're the boss,_ Charles projected playfully.

"I'm not the boss," Erik objected, looking at him while also trying to keep an eye on where they were going.

 _You like it. You like having control over me. You like the idea of being able to do whatever you want to me. You like having me here._

Charles looked at him slyly out of the corner of his eye. Erik's steps stuttered as he fought to urge to have him right then and there, finding Charles's newfound confidence through his telepathy extremely alluring. "You should be careful what you say," warned Erik.

 _Oh, I know exactly what I'm doing._ A flirtatious smile accompanied this statement.

Erik gave a huffy laugh, relieved when the safehouse door was right in front of them, saving him from having to continue this thread of conversation. While Charles was right about what he liked, he also felt uncomfortable about being in any way comparable to his former owners. He might enjoy a bit of kink but it was all in play, nothing like the cruelty Charles had experienced before.

When they entered the cramped foyer, Erik still insisted on supporting him to save his injured leg, so they crammed together, awkwardly shuffling towards the living room. Logan sat on the couch with his beers, seemingly unconcerned. Darwin looked up from his magazine. Moira stood, waiting for them, hands on her hips and eyes blazing.

"What is going on?" she demanded. "I thought we agreed to spring Charles tomorrow! Then he comes charging in here, frantically gesturing to the back of his neck, so I deactivated his chip, and he tears out of here with just a telepathic 'thank you' and 'I'll be back,' and no other explanation! What did you do?" She glared at him. "You didn't threaten him, did you?" she demanded, referring to Pilas.

"Yes," Erik admitted, immediately raising a hand to forestall her when she opened her mouth to start shouting, "But not in the way that you mean."

Moira crossed her arms, mouth in a thin line, clearly waiting for what better be a good explanation. She did not appreciate unnecessary risks and deviations from the plans they made, especially when she clearly told him no.

Erik opened his mouth to start, then realized that in order for the events of this evening to make sense to Moira, he would have to tell her the whole story of Rowle. He didn't look at Charles when he admitted that he'd been the one to tell him about the brothel. When he finally finished his explanation, Moira looked mollified.

"Okay, so, that's all over with. Now what do you plan on doing?" she asked.

Erik hesitated. He hadn't exactly told her about his plans to kill Shaw. He wasn't sure she would approve and he did not want her standing in his way or attempting to bargain with him. Moira preferred peaceful, sneaky ways of dealing with things rather than outright assassinations.

Charles met his gaze, then projected the answer for him. _We are going to track Shaw._

"You're going with him?" Moira asked, somewhat surprised.

 _Yes. It's what I want,_ he assured her, expression serious.

Erik slowly turned his gaze to Charles, relieved. That must mean that he did not hold his part in the Rowle incident against him.

"You have a lead?" she asked, directing the question to Erik. 

Erik retrieved the envelope he took from Rowle out of his pocket and handed it to her. She looked it over, and skimmed the contents. Logan put his beer can down and sauntered behind her, reading it over her shoulder. Darwin stared in interest but did not leave the couch.

"So he was the sucker I've been looking for," Logan commented. "Looks like after I give his place a once over, my work is done here." He made to leave, but stopped, turned, and stared at Charles. Charles stared back. Logan grinned enthusiastically, gave Erik a little wave and headed out, presumably to his bedroom.

"What? What were you saying?" asked Moira, with Erik listening attentively.

 _That is between Logan and me._ Charles radiated firmness.

Moira did not look thrilled with that, but did not protest any further. "Let's all just get a good night's sleep and talk more in the morning." She gave Erik back his envelope. "You both can pick whatever empty bedrooms there are." She smiled briefly at Charles. "So glad you're out of there."

"I second that," chipped in Darwin, grinning.

 _So am I._ Charles smiled back at them.

Moira and Darwin left the room, leaving Erik and Charles there alone. Charles smiled at him, gathering the keys, chains, and tracking device that lay scattered in the foyer and giving them to a reluctant Erik. "We'll discuss it in the morning," Erik said, though he was rapidly forgetting his objections to Charles's plan.

Charles followed Erik into an empty bedroom. Erik, hearing the soft footsteps behind him, turned in question. 

 _I'm staying with you,_ Charles projected with certainty.

"You don't have to do that. Go on, enjoy your night of freedom."

 _This is my choice as a free man. I know you want this._ Charles smiled knowingly.

Erik reddened slightly at being read so easily. "Stay out of my head," he snapped, eyes flashing.

Charles's face fell. _I'm sorry. I can't control it yet._

Was that his remorse, or Charles's, that Erik felt? 

 _I can ask Moira to reactivate the chip,_ Charles offered.

Erik glanced away, then met his gaze again. "No, that won't be necessary." He glanced around the sparse room, taking in the small bed, rug, and the closet. "I'll take the floor," said Erik, making his way to the rug. He'd certainly slept in worse places. He'd be fine.

 _Don't be silly. We can share the bed. I want to. Please._

Those eyes were just criminal. "Fine, we can share," Erik grumbled in defeat. He took off his shirt and belt, but opted to keep his pants on. He scooted over so Charles would have room and glanced over at him. His eyes widened. Charles climbed in beside him, completely naked. Erik's blood rushed south.

This was going to be a long night. Erik shifted around so he could hide his raging erection and let Charles make himself comfortable. Charles spooned up tightly behind him, just barely having enough room to do so. Erik focused on keeping his breathing even. With luck, Charles wasn't reading his mind and wouldn't realize how he was feeling. He didn't want Charles to think he was some hormonal teenager that expected him to cater to his needs, taking advantage of his gratitude.

No such luck.

Erik grunted when he felt Charles's hands reach around and grip him firmly through his pants. _Don't you want to take care of that?_

"You don't have to. You're not my slave. You don't ever have to have sex again if you don't want to," insisted Erik weakly. It was difficult to say that when his brain cells were rapidly disintegrating, Charles's hands feeling so good, right there. "Aren't you tired of sex?"

 _I want to._

Erik began gasping as Charles unzipped his pants, reaching down through his underwear to grip his aching erection. He moaned in satisfaction as Charles's hand sped up, not indulging in any teasing like Charles usually did. As his climax neared, Charles pushed Erik flat on his back and took him into his mouth. _Don't want to make a mess,_ the mental voice coy and smug, knowing how much Erik liked his mouth on him. Erik groaned at the words and came, Charles sucking it all down. As Erik lay there gasping, Charles fixed his pants and situated himself on top of Erik, burrowing his head into his heaving chest. Obviously he wanted to sleep. Erik could reciprocate later. At least, he hoped.

 _Safe._

It was more a feeling than a word. Erik wondered if Charles had projected that accidentally, especially since he didn't seem to expect a response. The idea that Erik gave Charles a sense of safety humbled him. The man radiated power, yet still thought he, a human, could provide that for him. Erik brought his arms up around Charles and adjusted himself so he was in a more comfortable position. Within minutes, they had both drifted off to sleep.

Erik was the first to wake the next morning, gradually coming to awareness, wondering why it was more difficult to breathe than normal. He opened his eyes and found the reason lying on top of him. Charles. Well, that was worth sacrificing some oxygen for. He shifted slowly, trying not to wake him as he tried to find a more comfortable position. The bed felt harder than ever and Charles was squashing him into it.

Charles woke several minutes later, shifting so their faces were inches apart. _Good morning._ The mental voice was bright and cheerful. Charles smiled, his eyes sparkling.

"Good morning," Erik returned, his lips twitching briefly in a matching grin. He'd fantasied about this situation many times since he'd met Charles. The reality was so much better. It seemed that the happiness of having Charles here with him had even kept the nightmares away.

Charles leaned down and kissed him affectionately, projecting warm feelings. Erik returned the kiss, still too fuzzy from sleep to even think about going further. They broke apart after a leisurely minute.

 _Thank you, Erik._

"For what?" asked Erik, baffled. It had been Charles doing him all the favors, not the other way around.

 _For offering me freedom. For getting me out of the brothel. For fighting Rowle off. For taking care of my injuries and visiting me every night. For the brandy and the games. For finding out what happened to Raven. You have done much for me, my friend._

Erik's head buzzed with the warm feelings that permeated from Charles. Charles smiled and kissed him again, causing Erik to moan in ecstasy from drowning in both his and Charles's pleasure as the telepath lost some of his control. Erik wrapped his arms around the naked man, drawing him as close as possible as their kisses increased in passion. He could somehow feel Charles's presence expand in his mind, probing to find out what Erik felt, what he liked.

Caught up in the intensity, Erik did not, at first, notice the pressure building in his skull. Charles stumbled upon Erik's 'intuitive' sense of metal, fascinated, and didn't notice the pressure either as he saw the world through Erik's eyes.  But when the pressure increased to pain, Erik began gasping from it. "Stop, stop," he pleaded, trying to push Charles off.

Charles pulled back physically, but mentally struggled to regain control. Tears escaped both of their eyes from the pain pounding in their heads. Charles stared at the rug, attempting to clear his mind, to disconnect from Erik's, but progressed much slower than he would like, due to his overpowering concern for Erik that challenged his focus.

Finally it receded to a bearable level. _Oh my god, Erik, I am so, so, sorry. I do not remember my telepathy ever hurting anyone like that, even before I gained control over it. I had no idea this would happen, this is unprecedented. I am so, so sorry._

Erik blinked his reddened, out of focus, teary eyes. "It's okay," he assured him, still a little out of breath. "Just give me a minute."

Charles carefully climbed off of him and sat on the rug, assuming a meditative pose. As much as he wanted to help Erik, he knew the best way was to withdraw and try to master some control. He listened as Erik's labored breathing even out to a more normal tempo. Still, when he glanced up after several minutes, Erik's face had not lost the pained, tense look. This concerned Charles, since his empathetic pain had all but vanished by now.

 _Let me get you some breakfast,_ offered Charles, eager to make it up to Erik.

"Okay," agreed Erik, though he wasn't sure, at the moment, whether he would be able to keep it down or not. He watched Charles dress and leave the room, and started massaging his temples after Charles was out of sight. He was doing his best to hide the amount of pain he was in, though he supposed that it was silly to think he could hide anything from a telepath as powerful as Charles. Still, the mutant was obviously making an effort now to stay out of his head, and had confessed his abilities were sporadic right now, so maybe he would be successful. Maybe Charles hadn't picked as much up from him ash he feared. He didn't want Charles to think he had to stay away. The start of their make out session had been to die for. He certainly hoped for a repeat of that. He was willing to try to work it out. Maybe Charles just needed time to relearn everything.

Charles reentered the bedroom, carrying a tray with two bowls of cereal and orange juice. Erik eased himself to a sitting position and took his bowl and mug, forcing himself to eat, despite his stomach's protest.

 _I really am sorry, Erik._

Erik glanced at Charles, who sat with him on the bed, head bowed, emanating remorse. "It's fine. This didn't happen last night, you had no reason to believe it would happen now. We'll figure out what happened and fix it." He paused, searching for change in subject. He missed the radiant, godlike man of confidence from the night before, and he wished to bring that back. "What about Raven? Why don't you try and free her instead of coming with me?"

 _I know she is far away. I couldn't help but pick that up from you and Moira earlier, sorry. So I can't free her alone. I was hoping, sometime during the hunt or maybe when this is all over with Shaw, you would help me free her._

Erik stared at him, his heart sinking a bit. It was selfish of him, but he'd hoped that Charles wanted to come along because he had feelings for him, more than just gratitude. Now it sounded like he just wanted to free Raven and this would be his best shot at it. Still, he would help Charles. "I will do that," he promised.

Charles smiled. _Thank you, my friend._

"But, you could always stay here and have Moira free her. I could leave enough money for you to pull it off. I have plenty," Erik offered, though still not quite happy with either solution. Erik could at least visit if he stayed here for a while, and Charles would be free.

 _No. I want to help you,_ Charles insisted.

Erik stared at him a moment, sensing his determination. "All right," he acquiesced. Then he returned to his breakfast.

They ate the rest of their meal in silence, Erik managing to choke his down somehow. Charles mostly stared at the rug, which Erik suspected was because of his efforts to control himself. Erik's headache gradually receded to the point where he thought he could get up and going again. He really did want to pursue that lead before the trail grew cold.

"We should get going," said Erik.

Charles nodded. Erik pulled on his shirt and belt, and they walked to the kitchen. Logan sat there at the dining room table, sipping his morning beer and skimming through a pile of papers scattered in front of him. Erik took care of their dishes, observing the obvious signs of Logan and Charles holding a telepathic conversation.

Seeing him smile brightly at Logan, Erik felt jealousy build in his chest. No doubt Charles preferred his own kind. He most likely found Logan a lot more impressive than Erik, who had no special abilities. While he was attracted to Erik and seemed interested in maintaining a sexual relationship, he no doubt would grow bored with him when the gratitude wore off and was confronted with more stimulating, attractive mutants with talents to match his own.

Finished with the dishes, Erik marched over to the table. "Sorry to cut you short, but Charles and I need to be going," he said, any remaining desire to persuade Charles to stay behind completely vanishing in a fit of temper.

"No prob, bub," replied Logan easily. "Just filling Charles in on what I filched from the barber shop last night. He can give you the details later." Logan took a moment to finish his can. "Man might have been a bastard, but he sure had great taste in beer."

Erik smiled tightly at him, darkly wishing he was capable of getting alcohol poisoning. "Say goodbye to Darwin and Moira for me." He hadn't seen them yet this morning. He guessed they must already be up to their usual illegal activities.

"Will do," agreed Logan. 

Erik retrieved the chains, tracking device, and chip deactivator that Moira left out for him, and found Charles waiting in the foyer.  Charles, seeing him approach, stood still, offering his wrists.

Erik reluctantly snapped the manacles on, the enormity of what Charles offered to him sinking in and clearing him of the jealous anger. "You don't have to -"

 _I know._


	8. Gifted

Gifted

When Erik opened the black door, chains in hand, rain pelted his face.  He closed it quickly, retreating back inside for a moment. Since there was no windows to the outside (at least, that he knew if, no doubt they had a peephole of some sort) he had no idea about the weather. Charles met his gaze curiously.

"I don't have an umbrella with me," Erik explained, eying Charles's too thin white jeans and sheer white top. After they followed this lead, he'd definitely buy him more practical clothes. He needed something in the meantime, though. Shrugging off his jacket, he offered it to the telepath. 

 _I'll be fine, Erik,_ Charles insisted firmly, though a soft smile crept on his face in a way that made Erik redden slightly. No doubt he'd picked up on his concern firsthand.

"No, you should wear it. I'm used to being outdoors, and you're not. My clothing is thicker than yours. Take it." Erik held it out persistently. Just the thought of Charles out there without his jacket made Erik feel cold and sick.

 _My mutation allows me great control over my body. Even when the chip was activated. No need to worry about me._ Charles smiled reassuringly.

Erik stared at him a moment, then decided to consider the implications later. "Even so. Put it on, Charles." He didn't want to take any chances.

Donning the jacket proved to be a challenge with the chains. Erik helped him thread them through the sleeves. "Do you have to wear these all the time?" he asked, frowning. He'd assumed so, because Charles always had them before. But maybe that was not the case?

 _I do not know. I always have, but I don't know if that's the law or if it's because I don't cooperate._ Charles fingered the chains, his expression going blank in memory. Erik could see the old, helpless persona creep back onto his face, and he hated it.

"I'll find out. But for now, we play it safe. All right?" Erik clenched his fist, resisting the urge to do something embarrassingly soothing and sentimental, like stroke his cheek with his thumb. Charles was already privy to at least some of his thoughts. He had no wish to embarrass himself further.

Charles nodded. Erik stepped back, suppressing a fond smile at the adorable way his large brown leather jacket draped on Charles's small frame. Remembering the healing ankle, he stepped forward, pulling one of Charles's arms around his shoulders to support him during their trek back to retrieve his things at the hotel. 

Before he could step outside, Charles stopped, resisting. Erik turned his head to him in question. He could feel a strange emotion being projected at him, a strange mix of something that made him feel light and his chest tight at the same time. The telepath stared at the floor in concentration, and the intrusion eased after a minute.

Charles, now that he'd pulled himself together, looked up. _It's going to look very odd if you support me like this, Erik, and it's very obvious I'm wearing your jacket too._

"I don't care. Let them stare," returned Erik. He pulled Charles a little tighter to him, leading him out the door into the deluge. Charles leaned onto him willingly, appreciating the relief it brought to his ankle. 

Despite his urge to hurry along to the dry hotel, Erik kept his pace moderate in consideration of Charles's shorter legs and injury. Drenched within seconds, he glanced at Charles to see how he was faring, blinking back the thick shower of raindrops on his face. A smile tugged at his lips of its own volition. Charles resembled a drowned rat, his hair soaked and sticking to his face and neck, bangs getting in his eyes, which were closed. A small, blissful smile played at Charles's lips.

 _It's been so long since I've been out in the rain. While my memories are vivid, it is still nothing like experiencing the real thing._ Charles's control slipped again, projecting his wonder and contentment.

Erik's steps slowed a little in response, irritation with the wet and cold fading as he took everything in as Charles did. That feeling of cleansing and renewal, the drops soothing instead of annoying and inconvenient. The awe of the power and wonder of this phenomenon. The urge to dance, splash, and play around in this quirk of nature. How special it was, when only rarely experienced for fifteen years.

Still, he kept Charles close in attempt to keep him warm, steering him around all the mud puddles. Charles's white shoes did not look  waterproof. Nor warm, for that matter. He could get sick. He would get him new ones when they shopped for clothes. 

The entire time, Charles kept his eyes closed, breathing even, milking every moment, trusting Erik to guide him safely. Erik felt something warm and protective expand in his chest at the sight, causing his steps to slow further and his attentiveness sharpen. He tightened his hold again, a note of possessiveness in his grip, a tingle of heat pooling low. He couldn't deny the erotic feeling of the position he found himself in, as Charles pointed out yesterday. He wondered if that made him a bastard. Charles seemed okay with it, and was by no means helpless anymore, so he decided not to worry about it.

Though the streets were mostly deserted, he did catch a man staring at them, frowning. Erik glared at him before easing his features into a grin more threatening than charming. The man raised his eyebrows and kept walking.

To be honest, Erik felt odd walking down the street with a chained man. He'd never had or wanted a slave. Mainly rich people had them as a sign of wealth and stature, much in the same way as a fancy car. Despite his own wealth, he owned very little and kept to the streets often, so he'd never counted himself among the rich and powerful before, and most people seemed to not notice him. Now, with Charles in tow, he knew that would change. He didn't know how that would affect his search for Shaw. Erik decided not to worry about it right now. If Charles was as talented with his power as he hoped, he doubted it would make a difference anyway.

As they splashed their way down they sidewalk where Charles had finally caught up with him the night before, Erik reflected on that confrontation, remembered how Charles had shown his power, if accidentally, how godlike he'd appeared. Now that the shock and worn off and Charles exerted a little more restraint, Erik wondered what exactly Charles could do. He thought telepaths could just read minds, but Erik experienced so much more than that, plus Charles eluded to more, mentioning things such as superior control over himself. That should have caused fear, he thought, but looking at Charles's gentle face, he could not find it in himself to be concerned. Besides, he'd been truly remorseful at hurting Erik this morning and showed nothing but determination to relearn his control. 

When they arrived, the receptionist to the hotel saw him come in, and noticed Charles. "Congratulations on your purchase, a fine specimen!" she said, smiling. The good looking ones were usually pleasure slaves, so that is what she assumed he was. That would explain why Erik was holding him like that. "We do have separate, secure slave quarters if you wish - "

"That won't be necessary. I'm checking out today as soon as the rain lets up," said Erik, disentangling himself from Charles so he could settle his bill. Water pooled beneath them on the brown tiled floor. "Sorry about the mess."

"Don't worry about it, we'll get it cleaned up. Just go and get dry."

Once they were safely ensconced in his room, Erik unlocked the chains and tossed them to them towards his suitcase, where they landed with a rattle. "Change out of your wet clothes," Erik said, gesturing vaguely towards his possessions. He himself grabbed a new shirt and jeans. "I'll be in the bathroom." Erik hurried in and closed the door behind him without a second glance. 

Erik changed quickly, then gathered his things in the bathroom to put back in his suitcase. He emerged to see Charles sitting on his bed, dressed in a black turtleneck and blue jeans much too big for him, the sleeves and pant legs rolled up, a belt on its tightest setting threaded through the belt loops. Erik couldn't decide if he looked ridiculous or adorable. An unconscious, fond smile crept on his face.

Then Erik realized what Charles was looking at and forgot everything else. He rushed over, dropping his bathroom things in the suitcase absently on his way. What did he think of it, of him?

Charles looked up at Erik's anxious approach. _Erik, this is marvelous. I never took you for an artist. You are truly gifted, my friend._

In his hand, he held Erik's penciled rendering of Charles drawn days before. He must have stumbled across it in his search for something that might fit him. Their eyes met. Erik didn't speak, unsure of what to do or how to behave, though a part of him preened inwardly at being called 'gifted.' 

 _This is very flattering, Erik, thank you. May I keep it?_

Erik gave a short nod, still unable to speak.

Charles smiled, folding it up and putting it in his pocket. Erik added a suitcase to his mental list of things he planned to buy for Charles. He realized his portrait was the first thing in fifteen years that Charles had to call his own. That needed to change. "You can have whatever you like out of my suitcase. Except my gun. You may use it to defend yourself, but not to keep," Erik told him.

 _That is the same gun Shaw used to executed your parents,_ Charles projected, more a statement than a question.

"Yes," Erik acknowledged. He remembered how close Charles came to speaking when he first mentioned the story to him. Now he would finally find out what he wanted to say.

 _I do agree that we must make a stand. But I must point out that killing Shaw will not bring you peace. Taking revenge on this man will not bring your parents back, and it won't give me back the years I was enslaved._ Charles's face was earnest, his posture strong and confident. Clearly, he had spent time thinking about this.

"Peace was never an option," Erik shot back, his tone final.

 _There are always options, Erik._ The wide blue eyes spoke of compassion and complete seriousness.

"How can you say that? Take off your blinders, Charles! When were you given a choice? How many options did you have while chained and forced against your will? You of all people should know how unforgiving this world can be. I grew up in a government facility. The things I have seen! They talk peace and freedom but it is nothing but an idealistic fantasy. It is not how the world works." As he spoke, he sat down beside Charles. His voice stayed even, reasonable, respectful, even if a bit incredulous.

 _Erik, you do not see yourself properly._ Charles's piercing gaze, coupled with a knowing smile, gave Erik pause. _You have given me the peace and freedom you claim does not exist. In my eyes, you are living proof that there is good to be seen in humans, that there is something there worth reaching out to and making peace with, letting go of my resentment. There is so much of you I have seen, Erik, in the glimpses I've had of your mind. I see a kind, gentle man I can trust, fiercely protective of the people he cares about._

 _And Erik, I always had options, even when it seemed like I had none. Yes, part of that was my mutation, my ability to control things most people can't control, but I don't mean just that. I had the option to keep hoping or give up, to trust you or not, to keep trying to find my sister, to hate or forgive. These things each person controls for themselves. You live in a world of your own making. You can either contribute to what is, or take a stand and make a new path._

 _I do not believe your parents would have wanted you to devote your life to vengeance. They would want you to be the new hope, if not for an unwilling world, at least for yourself._

"What do you expect me to do? Give up my hunt for Shaw?" Erik asked incredulously. For all that Charles could read of his mind, he still didn't understand!

 _No. I agree that something must be done. He must go. Too many lives are at stake, too many atrocities committed to have it any other way._ And for all Charles's talk of peace, Erik could read the underlying rage in the tension of his body and the hardness of his eyes. _It's just, you have trained yourself to be a weapon. You see yourself as one. There is more to you than that. There can be more to life for you than that. There will always be a bad guy for you to gun down, Erik, if you go hunting for them. If we are to make a better world, we must do it from a place of hope. I want that for you, Erik. You can be the better man._

Erik stared at him. Part of him couldn't help but admire Charles's strength of will to cling to those ideals, even through all that had happened to him. Still, he felt Charles was a bit too idealistic. He glanced outside, through the window near the bed. "Looks like the rain has eased for the moment," Erik commented, changing the subject.

Charles stared, a bit chagrined at Erik's dodge of the conversation, but accepted it for now. _Shall we go, then?_

"Yes," responded Erik. The two of them packed Erik's suitcase, Erik folding the damp clothes in a separate compartment so they didn't get everything else wet. He snapped the case shut and reattached Charles's wrist chains to lead him out of the room.

He felt Charles stop, resisting the movement. Erik glanced back at him in question.

 _It's going to look very odd if you carry the suitcase instead of me._

Erik gave him an irritated look and handed the suitcase to him. "Fine," he agreed unhappily. "But I'm still helping you with your ankle." He was used to being completely independent. It wasn't easy for him to get used to someone doing things for him. It made him feel weak.

Charles took the suitcase without comment, trying to look like it wasn't as heavy as it was. In the brothel he didn't get much chance to exercise or build strength so it was actually quite a chore for him to carry it. He said nothing to Erik, though. He knew he was right. If Erik didn't make him carry it, it would attract a lot of attention and unwanted questions. Erik clearly was not experienced in dealing with slaves so he would have to fill in the blanks for him.

"I need to return my books to the library before we leave," announced Erik after they left the hotel. Charles looked at him, a bright, surprised gleam in his eye. Erik smiled at Charles's excitement, any guilt he felt at the extra walking fading to the background.

 _What did you read?_ Charles's eyes lit up with intense interest. Erik could feel excitement building that wasn't his own.

"Language books," said Erik, then decided to elaborate a bit. "I have always enjoyed learning languages. Though I suppose you could just -" he gestured to his temple - "and absorb it all." He grinned ironically, more amused than jealous.

 _It's not as simple as that,_ Charles objected with a smile. _Maybe, with practice. Once I get the hang of things again._

The pair entered the library, Erik leading the way to the dropbox, depositing his books inside. He turned back to Charles, who stared, transfixed, at the nearby bookshelves. Erik regretted he did not have the time to let Charles browse as he wished. He added 'go to a bookstore' to his mental shopping errand list. So much he wanted to do with Charles, and so little time. Erik gently touched Charles's arm, getting his attention. They reluctantly left and continued on.

They arrived at the train station and got in line. Erik disentangled himself from Charles, staring at the times and fares to their destination. In the corner of his eye, he noticed Charles set the suitcase down and stretch his muscles in relief. After a moment's regret, he changed his mind and decided it was good for him. Charles needed to build strength. 

He returned his attention to the board. He'd always traveled alone. He did not know the rules for transporting slaves. They must be kept separate, though, since he never remembered seeing them in any area he'd sat in. Still, the idea of Charles being locked up, out of sight, in some hell hole with possibly vile treatment did not sit well with him. "Do you want to stay with me?" Erik whispered as covertly as he could.

 _I'll be fine, Erik. I have gone through this before. Don't worry about me._ Charles smiled reassuringly.

"Very well," agreed Erik reluctantly. Charles most likely wanted to spend more time with his own kind, anyway. Still, even though this particular situation wasn't quite what he'd hoped for, Erik thought it nice to be traveling with someone, with Charles, as he'd wished at this very station some days ago. Charles looked up at him, smiling knowingly, and Erik knew he'd caught that thought.

Erik paid for his tickets, ignoring the grumpy ticket master's jibe about 'not running away this time', and did not meet Charles's resulting questioning gaze, either. 

Before long, male, muscular attendant with black hair came to lead Charles away, breaking up the awkward situation. He stared at Charles for a moment before his face darkened in recognition. "I remember you! What was it, two, no, three years ago? You're the rascal who tried to get away when the train arrived here! I'm telling you, laddie, I'll be keeping a right watchful eye on you, and a firm hand too!" His angry voice had a hint of Scottish brogue in it.

Erik stepped forward, gripping the man's shoulder firmly and getting in his face. "That won't be necessary. He will cooperate this time," insisted Erik, fearing what the man might do to Charles once left alone with him.

"Aye, that was what I was told the last time, sir, him being fresh from a correctional facility and all, but you know what happened. I'll make sure he cooperates this time." His tone did not bode well. Erik wondered if he'd taken the incident personally.

"If there is a problem. I will handle it. Clear?" Erik's voice deepened, his posture threatening. If this man didn't back down, he'd bring Charles with him to his seat, rules be damned. The man still looked skeptical, but nodded his agreement. 

Erik pulled Charles aside. "If he so much as touches you, you let me know, understand?" Erik hissed at him, tapping his temple meaningfully, green eyes flashing.

Charles nodded. Erik reluctantly handed him over to the attendant and stared at their retreating backs until Charles disappeared into a car near the back. He got in line to get in his part of the train, suitcase in hand. After several minutes, he frowned. What was the holdup? There weren't many people and it normally didn't take this long.

Eventually the line go moving again. "Sorry about that," said a young attendant standing by the door. "We thought we found a stowaway, but it turned out to be a false alarm."

Erik continued past him and climbed into a seat near the back, his usual choice when traveling. That way he could observe all the occupants inside. After a little while of that, he grew bored with people watching and unable to quite take his mind off of what could possibly be happening to Charles. He wished he had asked him to check in regularly. He would be sure to do that the next time, if there was a next time, of course.

Thinking about Charles reminded him of how he'd admired Erik's drawing earlier and wanted to keep it. Maybe he'd like another one, of someone else this time. Erik thought through his options. No one at the brothel for sure, all things considered. Though he suspected he'd gained a kind of rapport with Emma, Erik did not want to remind Charles of that place in any way. 

That narrowed his options. He wouldn't do one of himself. Charles saw more than enough of him. Erik though back to the time at the safe house, Charles's bright grins exchanged with Logan, the conversations taken place between those two that no one had been privy to, including himself. He felt black jealousy rise in him again. Charles seemed to have taken quite a shine to Logan. Perhaps his drawing should be of him.

Doing his best to quell his bitter jealousy, he focused instead on the delighted smile he was sure to get when he presented Charles with the drawing. He detailed the claws, the brute strength, the sideburns and portrayed the feral vibe of the mutant man. As he sketched, it really brought to light how much more Logan had to offer Charles than he did. Erik was quite mundane by comparison. He bet Logan would be able to withstand the power of Charles's telepathy, making incidents like the one that happened this morning a non issue. While Charles's control was sure to improve, nobody was perfect, and he was bound to slip up again. Charles deserved someone who he could be free with his talents with, to let himself go completely without worry. Erik feared he couldn't even offer that. 

Feeling the brakes engage, Erik quickly packed up his finished drawing. The train had barely barely come to a stop when Erik strode quickly to the front to be one of the first ones out. He barely contained himself until the door finally opened, and he rushed towards the back of the train where he'd seen Charles disappear, scanning the area for him.

The black haired attendant appeared with him, looking grudgingly impressed. "What do ya know, sir, you were right. He was quiet as a mouse. Didn't struggle once. In fact, he was the most cooperative one of the lot. Sure would like to know how you were able to break him when the government facilities weren't." He handed the chains over to Erik, regarding him with respect. "Still won't speak, but all things considered, maybe not such a bad thing."

"I have many hidden talents," said Erik mysteriously with an ironic grin, though he strongly objected to the idea of 'breaking' Charles. He waited until the man turned around before turning to the telepath. "You all right?" he inquired, eyes intense.

 _I'm fine, Erik. It was as he said. A quiet ride._

Erik looked him over quickly, then, satisfied he was telling the truth, slung his arm around him and helped him walk down the busy road to a car rental place. This was a much larger town than the last one, so he would need one. Besides, though he wanted Charles to get in better shape, he also didn't want to exhaust him. Renting a car was an all around good idea.

When they arrived, the man there was very surprised that a man rich enough to own a slave didn't want to be chauffeured, nor wanted a fancy car but Erik firmly told him no. He wanted a plain, nondescript one so he would not attract attention or be very memorable. When they were shown to the black, four door car, Erik tried to open the door for Charles and pull him into the front seat, but his pseudo-slave stopped him with a gentle touch on his arm.

 _Erik, that is sweet, but slave owners do not open doors for their slaves or allow them to sit up front._

Erik gave him a disgusted look, but took heed to his advice and made Charles open the back door and climb in, putting on a show for anyone watching. He pretended to latch the chains to the seat, but didn't, leaving them undone. He got himself settled into the driver's seat, and within minutes they were on their way to the address indicated in the letter.

To be honest, Erik thought it quite strange that Shaw would exchange intelligence through something as insecure as a letter, even if it was in code, as this one was. Why didn't he just use the telephone? Or was he somewhere that did not have telephones, for some reason?

With any luck, Charles would have the answers to all of his questions shortly.


	9. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know canon Charles's gift does not work with animals, but in any world I write, (with the exception of Hangover: Mutated) it does work with animals.

Revelation

The sight of Charles wielding some of his considerable power enamored Erik more than he ever imagined, even days ago, wanking off in the shower.

He'd been sitting there in the rental car for a considerable length of time, waiting for Charles to gather what he could with his erratic telepathy. The new car smell had grown very familiar to him over the years of occasional rentals, so that strong scent didn't bother him now as he breathed it in. He settled comfortably in the tan driver's seat, the same color as the rest of the interior. The temp was a touch hot for his tastes, but not unbearable, fortunately, since he did not want to draw attention to himself by turning the car back on or rolling down a window. Since he'd chosen a lower grade car, it only had the basics, but then Erik had never much cared for bells and whistles.

In fact, he barely noticed anything but the sight of Charles in the back seat, fingers to his temple, his eyes closed and brow furrowed. Muscles taut, he barely moved a muscle as the minutes passed, his face paling. Erik restrained himself from checking to see if he still breathed. The air fairly hummed with Charles's power. Erik felt Charles's mind brush his several times, but only for a split second, giving him the impression it was accidental.

Despite the obvious strain, Erik's impression of ethereal godliness returned. What would that be like to have some of that power unleashed on him during sex? Before he could stop himself, he slipped deep into a fantasy.

 _"Caught you," said Charles with a triumphant smirk, his voice smooth, sexy, English, like his telepathic one._

 _Erik stood, caught by surprise, naked in his hotel room, jerking off to thoughts of Charles. Now frozen and helpless under Charles lustful gaze and power, his hands moved away from his cock under the telepath's influence. Erik wanted to groan, he had been so close to release, but could do nothing more than huff a frustrated breath. He felt his legs spread out, exposing himself more to Charles, who circled him like a predator would his prey._

 _"All the things I could do to you," Charles mused suggestively._

 _Erik's breathing quickened, various scenarios whipping through his brain at lightning speed. onhiskneessuckingCharkes'scockCharlessuckinghiscockCharlesfuckinghimhimfuckingCharlesCharlesmarkinghimwithhisteeth suckingkissingtouchingsensitiveplacesnothingtostophimhecan'tmove...._

 _"All very good ideas, Erik," complimented Charles knowingly. "We'll get to all of them. In my own sweet time, of course." He smiled wickedly, coming to a stop in front of Erik, tantalizingly close._

 _Erik could feel the warm, pleasant breath caressing his face and neck, nearly hyperventilating now. He felt achingly sensitive and exposed, his whole world narrowed to every breath, noise, weight shift and slightest gesture Charles made, the warm and power radiating from him, hyperaware and unable to do a thing about it, not even the slightest twitch to relieve his almost painfully hard cock._

 _Charles licked his lips smugly. "Hmmm, enjoying yourself already, aren't you?" He slowly trailed a finger down the length of Erik's torso, not quite touching. As the digit migrated south, Erik's balls tightened in anticipation. He could even feel the slight movements the air made as the finger displaced it. Where would he touch? He struggled to get his breathing under control, the only thing he had power over. He couldn't even look down to see what Charles was doing. He sucked in hard as the warm skin finally contacted his, right on his over sensitized perineum, his cock jerking of its own accord..._

The sound of Charles clearing his throat made Erik snap back to reality. His cheeks slightly tinged with color. Did Charles pick up on his fantasy? 

To his relief, the telepath gave no indication he'd picked up anything out of the ordinary. Erik turned away from him for a minute, his pants uncomfortably tight. God, just the mere idea of Charles exercising his power on got him hot and bothered. Unfortunately, with the problem they encountered this morning it might not become reality, at least not to that degree.

Erik started a bit when Charles began projecting at him the things he was learning. _Ok, that one isn't involved...just a housekeeper...oops, that is a cat, no wonder all the thoughts were about fish..._

Erik held back a snort of laughter.

 _There's a man fixing a leaking pipe. He's irritated, they always make him do this kind of work. He is involved, but on the bottom of the totem pole..._

Erik's fascination and respect for Charles grew as Charles continued to ramble, the seriousness of the task at hand helping to act as a much needed cold shower. His gift was truly amazing. Right now, it was very difficult for Erik to understand why someone would want to destroy something so beautiful.

 _There's a man at a table, drinking beer. He does that a lot apparently. Likes American beer, can't stand the European varieties. Yes! I see it now, he is a close associate of Shaw's. He's also a friend of the barber you killed._

Erik sensed no accusation in that statement. Apparently, despite his peace loving ways Charles had decided that it was self defense and acceptable.

 _He's wondering why he hasn't heard from him, but he's not too worried yet, Rowle has - had - a tendency to be unreliable. Now he's thinking about the girl he was with last night..._

Erik had to bite down hard on his lips to keep from laughing at Charles's expression, not wanting to break his concentration.

 _Still thinking about it...still thinking about it...I wish I could find her and tell her what a jerk he is, he's not worth her time, he's just in it for the sex, but he's made her believe he loves her...Finally, he stopped thinking about it, someone else has entered the room. They're talking. Apparently they're going to meet up tomorrow night with more of Shaw's associates at a local pub, planning a big party to pass the time until Shaw's return. Shaw, he - he - he -_

Erik sat as still as Charles, waiting eagerly for the new information Charles attempted to assimilate. Charles opened his eyes.

 _Erik, I know why you have not been able to track Shaw successfully all this time! He lives in a submarine called the Caspartina. He spends most of his time underwater but he does make occasional short visits to different places around the world._

Erik and Charles stared at each other as this revelation sank in. "That is why he uses letters instead of the telephone. He can't radio or telephone anyone underwater, and he obviously keeps his visits unpredictable. It's the only way to reliably reach him! He must have specific people he calls or visits when he does surface and they read him the important things." So many things made sense now. 

Charles closed his eyes, concentrating again. _He's arriving in two days. Caspartina will dock underneath a boat of the same name at the local dock, and he will have a welcoming party that evening._

"And we are going to be there," decided Erik, thoughts darkening. He hadn't seen Shaw since the bastard handed him the gun. After all this time, it was almost surreal that he'd finally caught up with him. Erik felt a surge of pride at Charles's impressive skills. He'd gotten further in a few minutes than Erik had in months, or even years.

 _It's invite only, Erik. I think if you showed up to tomorrow's party at the pub you might be able to charm your way into an invite to the Caspartina boat for Shaw's return party. Especially if you flaunt your money. These men are easily swayed by that._

"That's good enough," said Erik, not wanting to linger any longer than he had to, satisfied with the plan and what he learned. Besides, he could tell using all this telepathy was a strain on Charles, who still wasn't used to having it again. "Could you lead me to where the party is going to be? Do you know what time?"

Charles frowned, concentrating harder. He'd just been reading surface thoughts before, plumbing knowledge from the subconscious was a bit trickier. _Yes. It's at six o'clock tomorrow night, and it isn't far. I'll be able to direct you to it._

Charles clumsily projected an image of a building, and a sense of where it was in relation to them. Erik nodded, satisfied. He started up the car and headed back to town, where he would no doubt find a hotel, mindlessly slipping back to old habits. 

As he passed by restaurants, diners, pubs, and bars, he realized he was hungry. After all, he'd eaten nothing since this morning, and Charles - had he been hungry all this time, and not said anything? His heart sank. That had been rude of Erik, not to think of that, but in his defense, he wasn't used to caring for someone else.  "You know you can ask me for anything, Charles," started Erik, wanting to rectify this immediately. "Are you hungry?" Green eyes focused on the exhausted telepath in the rearview mirror before returning to the road.

 _Now that you mention it, yes, I am,_ admitted Charles, weariness leaking through to Erik's mind, making his body ache and sag a bit in sympathy.

"Anything in particular?" inquired Erik. He didn't know what Charles had been living on, but he doubted anything fancy. "I'll get you anything you want."

 _Thank you. As long as it's not soup._ Charles sat, hunched over, head in his hands. 

Noting this, Erik knew he was too tired to put much thought into it. No matter. "How about we find a hotel, check in, and then get food." He could ask the receptionist who made the best food in the city and bring it back to Charles.

 _Sounds splendid,_ Charles assented.

His urge to spoil Charles with food got him thinking. Why stop there? Why not pick the fanciest hotel as well? Erik usually picked his hotels based on location and functionality rather than amenities, but the idea of treating Charles to all the luxuries available excited him. The telepath sure looked like he could use some soothing time in the hot tub, anyway. Poor man must have a headache on top of everything else by the look of things. Being in the minds of those bastards probably was no picnic. He certainly didn't envy him there.

Some friendly people walking down the sidewalk pointed him in the direction of Indigo Hotel and Suites on the beach. Erik drove there and told the valet he would be back in a few minutes, so the man agreed to wait for him.

Charles grabbed Erik's suitcase and Erik helped him inside. Erik got everything settled with the receptionist. Charles set the case down and sagged in relief. When Erik turned back around, he straightened and smiled.

But that didn't fool Erik. When they climbed into the empty elevator, Erik took his case from Charles. "I got us a room on the top floor," he informed him. 

Charles pressed the button for the tenth and last floor. Classical music filled the silence as they rode up. Charles squinted in the bright light, which wasn't  helping his headache. He stretched a bit and shuffled his feet on the red carpet. Why did it have to be red? He'd seen enough of that to last a lifetime.

Ding.

The two men exited. "It's room 1057," Erik stated, and they both glanced around. After a bit of wandering they found and entered their two room suite with a Jacuzzi and a dazzling ocean view. Charles immediately strode to the window, transfixed.

"When was the last time you saw the water?" Erik asked, joining him after setting his suitcase on the king sized bed, barely taking in the white and tan theme of the room.

 _I have not seen the ocean since I lived at Westchester,_ Charles informed him, projecting a strange mix of joy, nostalgia and unbearable wistfulness. _Since Raven and I snuck to the beach to play for the last time._

Erik reassured him, "We'll free Raven. I promise you. This business with Shaw will only take a few days and then we can find her."

 _Thank you. I can't wait to see her._

Worry, more than excitement, engulfed Erik's mind before Charles took a deep breath and it abruptly faded. "She'll be all right," promised Erik. Charles most likely worried about her more than he let on.

Noticing the chains that still hung from Charles's thin wrists,  Erik said, "Give me your wrists."

Charles did so without hesitation.

Erik unlocked the manacles, taking and putting them in a corner. He also set the tracking device and telepathic controller, and the key there as well. The unspoken message was clear: Right now, where others wouldn't be able to see, he expected Charles to behave as his own man.

Charles rubbed his wrists a bit, more in wonder than anything else. Even this little freedom was still a novelty.

They stood in silence admiring the view for a few minutes with Erik fighting the urge to take Charles's hand or some other such embarrassingly sentimental gesture that he wasn't sure Charles would return. Finally he announced, "I'm going out to get food. You just stay here and relax. Maybe get in the Jacuzzi or something. That might help your headache."

Charles smiled and nodded. When Erik returned, Charles sat in the Jacuzzi, completely naked, eyes closed. Erik set his takeaway on the table, eyes on Charles, feeling an entirely different kind of hunger. 

But, Charles had told him he was hungry.

Erik resolutely turned his back on the tempting sight so he could set everything out on the dining table. Even just looking at Charles right now sent his mind to the gutter, distracting him. He hadn't been this hormonal acting since he'd been a teenager. Actually, come to think on it, not even then. He'd been too focused on building his skills to take vengeance on Shaw to give as much thought to sex as other boys did. He was certainly making up for all that lack now.

Erik took out a scotch bottle, along with glasses, first. Next he set out the dinner he'd bought. Unsure of what Charles would like, he decided to play it safe with Chinese food, instead of picking something more exotic that the telepath might not eat. He could always get Charles something fancier later if he so desired. He snuck the dessert into the freezer so he could surprise him with it afterward.

Erik heard the water splashing and the thump thump thump of Charles emerging from the Jacuzzi, but refrained from turning around. Instead, he focused on pouring the scotch and making sure they were all set.

Charles got himself dressed and approached the table from behind Erik. _Erik, this is marvelous. Truly...groovy. Thank you._

Erik turned, meeting his soft gaze, and flashed him his shark grin, gesturing him to sit down with him, which he did. Charles certainly never had cuisine like this before. While he'd hardly lived on stale bread and water, it still hadn't been anything fancy, and he certainly hadn't been allowed to eat all he wanted, as Erik encouraged now him to do.

Eating, of course, in no way inhibited Charles from talking. Erik was now finding, much to his bemusement, that Charles was actually quite a chatterbox. It made his chest ache to think of Charles, refusing to speak, deprived of his telepathy, no one to talk to, so lonely for so many years, when he clearly was quite sociable by nature. It just made Erik hate the bastards all the more that did this to him. He still wasn't sure if he sided with mutants in general, or the humans. All he knew was that he was on Charles's side, and not on Shaw's.

Charles talked mainly about the food with a great deal of appreciation. He also revealed to Erik that the scotch he'd brought him during their second night together was the first alcohol he'd ever had. Upon hearing this, Erik resolved to buy him lots of different alcohol so he could figure out what he liked. Not to mention, Erik was curious to see Charles drunk in a naughty way. Charles was starting to get slightly tipsy even now, being quite a lightweight due to his lack of exposure to alcohol and his rather small form, and the fact that Erik encouraged him to drink all he wanted. 

When Erik brought out dessert (german chocolate cake and ice cream) he was scandalized to learn that Charles had not had chocolate or any other kind of dessert for perhaps at least fifteen years or more. Erik might be rather spartan but even he liked to treat himself now and again. The look on Charles's face as he took the first bite was extremely gratifying. This increased Erik's determination to spoil him.

 When they were done, Erik pulled out his chess set, and they played a few games, Charles continuing to chatter cheerfully. He found it difficult to concentrate at times on the game to strategize properly - mental chatter was much more difficult to shut out than vocal chatter - but he didn't complain. Charles was obviously starved for connection with another being, which he was happy to provide.

When Charles brought up the subject of his art, Erik remembered his intended gift for him. He took it out of his suitcase and handed it to the telepath, carefully watching his reaction. 

Charles studied the drawing, a light smile on his face. _This is splendid! You really captured him._

Erik's head buzzed strangely until he realized what it was - mental laughter. Feeling a little defensive, he explained, "I didn't have very long to sketch. I drew it all on the train ride. I thought you would appreciate it since you might not see much of Logan."

Charles frowned, looking back up at him. _You misunderstand. There's something you're misunderstanding, I can sense it._ His eyes bored into Erik's, blinking slightly in befuddlement, his face a bit flushed from the alcohol.

"No, I understand. You want to be with your own kind." Erik tried to keep his thoughts blank. He wanted Charles to stay out of his head, but thought reactivating the chip to be a cruel gesture, so he would have to tough it out and hope for the best.

Charles stared at him in shocked, confused dismay. _Erik..._

This wasn't going at all the way Erik had hoped. He'd imagined Charles thrilled, cherishing it, giving him one of his bright, warm smiles. Instead, Charles stared at him like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He could feel him probing his thoughts, a spike edged with concern.

"Stay out of my head," Erik snapped before he could stop himself, his eyes flashing, afraid of what Charles would think of what he found there.

 _Erik, I'm sorry but, I seem to have left you with an erroneous impression,_ Charles projected, ignoring his outburst.

"What do you mean?" asked Erik, doing his best to keep his voice even, his heart beating faster against his will.

 _While I do think mutations can be quite groovy, I do believe it is not our abilities that makes us who we are, but our choices, our personalities, our values, and beliefs. There is no us versus them. We're all human. My choice of company has nothing to do with mutations. What I'm trying to say, Erik, is that....it doesn't matter what your abilities are, or anyone's for that matter. I do not want to be with anyone but you. You seem to think I am merely grateful towards you. This has nothing to do with gratitude. I wanted to be with you since I first saw you, no one else, then and now._

Erik stared at him, the words slowly sinking in. "Then you did not agree to come along with me just because you need help with Raven?"

 _No, of course not! You are far more than a means to an end. I don't have much experience with this but, I do believe I'm in love with you._

Erik couldn't speak, shock reverberating in his mind. Was he really?

 _It's not gratitude I'm feeling, like I said, Erik, this started long before you freed me. I would like to show you. May I?_ he asked, gesturing with his fingers.

Erik gave a short nod, his defensive attitude dissipating. He sat absolutely still as a warm glow enveloped him, an image of himself, as Charles saw him, forming in his mind's eye. But it wasn't what Erik was accustomed to seeing staring back at him in the mirror. No, this Erik was larger than life, handsome, perfect, powerful, strong, _safe,_ completely safe, kind, protective, someone to curl into and know he had his back, would take care of him and not let anything happen to him. Someone who understood him, occupied the same wavelength. Someone endearingly thoughtful, smart, brave, resourceful. Also, of course,  extremely sexy, the intense, tightly leashed aggressive nature making Charles quite hot, even if he didn't always agree with the ideology behind it. 

The image expanded with flashes of their time together, highlighting not so much what he had done for Charles, but the way he'd done it, revealing his character, making him special, an inspiration. The projection faded, leaving Erik stunned, blood rushing in his ears. Charles loved everything about him, without exception.

 _I know you love me too. You don't have to say it,_ Charles assured the speechless German, his eyes bright blue and kind. _I can feel it._  
Erik stayed frozen, unsure of what to do after such a declaration. 

 _It's your move,_ Charles sent, smiling brightly.

"I-" Erik swallowed nervously.

 _I mean the chess game. Your move._ Charles's smile never wavered.

Erik looked down at the forgotten chess game, gathering his bearings for a moment. Charles was offering him an out.

He wasn't going to take it.

He stood up and resolutely strode over to Charles, cupping his face with his hands, tilting his head up so those bright red lips met his. He poured his growing elation into the kiss, moving his lips slowly but steadily, sucking at his bottom lip, licking at his mouth, easily slipping inside. Never breaking contact, Charles stood up and they shuffled towards the bed, Erik gliding his tongue against Charles's, their mingled breaths quickening as things heated between them. 

They carefully sank down on the bed, pressing as close to each other as they could. Now knowing how hot it made Charles, he rolled over on top of him, dominating him, taking over the kiss, getting more aggressive with his tongue as he thrusted it into his mouth repeatedly, egged on further as Charles kept leaking his increasing arousal, his control wavering in the onslaught of feeling. He forced one, then both of his legs between Charles's, glowing with satisfaction as that action along with the now solid contact of their cocks through their clothing wrenched a moan from the normally silent man, a telepathic surge of ecstasy spiking sharply in his mind, arousal thrumming through his veins.

After a few more minutes of blissful making out with the double arousal increasing in Erik's mind, the telepath reluctantly pulled back. _I'm sorry, Erik. It's late, I'm tired, and I just don't have the energy to control myself. I don't want to hurt you again. Maybe tomorrow morning?_

"All right," Erik agreed easily, though reluctantly, and rolled off him. Once more he felt regret that he couldn't take whatever Charles dished out. 

 _It's okay, Erik. We'll work it out. I have complete and utter faith in you. You're stronger than you know._

Erik wasn't sure he shared his confidence, but at the moment did not feel like arguing, relieved that Charles was willing to do whatever it took to make it work.

After their breathing returned to normal, they got up and got ready for bed. They both opted to sleep nude since they planned to be that way in the morning anyway, though they both knew it was more because they enjoyed being with each other that way.

As Charles lay curled tightly against Erik, head pillowed on his chest, Erik decided to ask him something he'd been wanting to know for a long time. It finally seemed like the right moment. He was still too wound up from the necking to sleep right away, and judging from the odd projection he still received now and then, his mutant lover felt the same. "Charles?"

 _Yes?_  

Charles's breath warmed his chest pleasantly, and he focused on that sensation as he asked his burning question. "Why don't you speak? Out loud?"


	10. Lehnsherr's Law

Lehnsherr's Law

Charles did not answer for a minute. Erik waited in high anticipation, still focused on those warm puffs of air. Finally Charles opened his mind again.

 _I wondered if you would ask. It's a bit complicated._

"Are you mute?" Erik wondered.

 _No, nothing like that. There is nothing physically wrong to my knowledge, though it is possible my time at government facilities damaged my vocal chords._

Erik decided he really needed to take Charles to the doctor at the first opportunity. With everything he'd gone through, who knew what could be wrong or damaged without them knowing it. He refocused on the situation at hand. "When did you stop speaking?"

Charles thought for a minute. _The last time I willingly spoke was when I told Raven to run for it when my stepfather attacked us. After that I was gagged and drugged._

Erik could feel Charles's tension and reluctance like it was a solid thing, but he pressed on, needing to know. "What happened?"

Charles rolled over to face him, placing his fingers on Erik's temple and lifting his eyebrows questioningly. Erik gave a short nod.

 _Blurred faces. Something small, sharp, biting, poking him. What time was it? How much time had passed? Where was Raven?_

 _And why did the lights have to be so bright and nauseating? His stomach roiled. Where was he? He was on something. Or was it under something? So, so difficult to tell, why was that? Something was terribly wrong._

 _Everything was spinning. Was that wetness on his face? He couldn't seem to move his hands properly. A voice, saying something he couldn't understand, far too loudly. Why wouldn't it stop? He tried to say "STOP!" but all that came out was a sort of strangled moan._

 _But he didn't have to use his mouth, did he? A distant anxiety warned him to be cautious, but here, in this odd place disconnected to reality, it would be perfectly harmless, wouldn't it? He had such fog to work through, though. He'd have to really unleash his power to be heard._

 _STOP!_

 _Finally, something stilled, and that voiced faded for a bit, he had no idea how long though. So hard to move and see. Was he underwater? But then, how was he breathing? Though he wasn't sure he was doing that either. Was he dead?_

 _He fell asleep._

 _When he woke up, things appeared much clearer. He knew up from down, and remembered a bit about his situation, being captured, the government facility, being separated from Raven, although his limbs still weighed far to much, his thoughts sluggish._

 _Slowly the memory of using his telepathy surfaced in his mind, dread pooling in his stomach. Had he really done that? How could he have been so stupid, allowed himself to show weakness, to be manipulated? That was precisely what they wanted, to assess him. He'd been betrayed by his own weakness, given himself away, just as his family had. Now, he would be chipped. Enslaved._

 _His breathing sped up. How could his mother have married a man who would betray him like this? Did she not love him at all? Distantly, Charles knew the drugs were triggering hysterics, but he couldn't help himself as he cried helplessly. Now, he had not only been betrayed by his family, by the government and slaver society, but by himself as well. They had tricked him, forced him to lose control._

 _He heard footsteps approaching._

 _He had to stop. He had to STOP. He would not given them the satisfaction of hearing him cry. He would not lose control again. He would not play into their hands anymore. He would not allow himself to be betrayed again, by himself or anyone._

 _He would exert complete control over himself, whatever it took._

 _Still hysterical from the drugs and his situation, he gathered his power. Never before had he tried to use it on himself, but he did so now, sluggish and unfocused, but with great determination. He could feel his mind shutting down._

 _The crying stopped abruptly._

 _The person entered the room, still nothing but a blur to Charles. Something was injected into his arm, and he passed out again._

 _When he woke, his head was clearer than ever, though his stomach felt simply awful. He got up and rushed to a solitary wastebasket he spied in the corner of the white room he found himself in, emptying the meager contents of his stomach into it._

 _As he bent over, he noticed an odd soreness in the back of his neck. When he finally quit heaving, he rubbed it, feeling a scar there._

 _He'd been chipped._

 _Panicked, he reflexively tried to reach out with his telepathy, but nothing happened. It was like a part of his mind was walled off._

 _Before he could process things any further, a black haired woman in green scrubs entered. "You're awake," she commented, making a slight face at the evidence of Charles's sour stomach._

 _Charles made no move to answer her or acknowledge her beyond a cursory glance, his face sickly pale. Opening his mouth seemed like a bad idea._

 _"I'm Mallory. What is your name?" she asked, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes._

 _Charles finally turned, stone faced, but made no move to speak, breathing uneven._

 _"No one seems to know your name, so you're going to have to give it, or be called by a number."_

 _Charles attempted to speak, but nothing came out. His speech seemed to be walled off in his mind like his telepathy was, the shock of this living nightmare conquering his mind._

 _This couldn't be happening. He would wake up soon, and find out this wasn't real, right? He couldn't be enslaved, betrayed, helpless like this. Nonononononononono...._

Erik's awareness of the sterile white room faded into the puff of warm air on his chest, the soft mattress underneath him, a warm body curled into him, and the darkness of the surrounding room. Erik tightened his arms around him protectively. Nothing like that would every happen to this man again if he could help it. Charles's voice resumed in his mind.

 _As the shock wore off, I still couldn't seem to speak.  I thought it might be a result of turning my power against myself to stay quiet and in control. Without use of my power, I couldn't correct it, if that was the case._

 _But as time went on, and they forced me, punished me, debased me, I decided it didn't matter. Since they took away my insight to other people and used it against me, then I would not let them have any insight to me, would not give them anything to use against me further, to betray me more. I vowed not to even try to speak again until I was free, my powers returned._

 _They thought they could control me, manipulate me, break me into speaking or whatever else they wanted. They were wrong. I would not let myself be vulnerable again to betrayal, from either them or my own weakness, in whatever way I could manage. While they could force my body, they could not force my mind._

 _So it started as an act of rebellion and as a vain attempt to protect myself. But over the years, it turned into the last bit of freedom and autonomy I had. They could make me do all kinds of things, but they couldn't make me speak. In that, at least, I was my own master. Speaking, in my mind, became synonymous with giving in to being the dumb, worthless animal I was treated as, to being broken. So even though my situation seemed hopeless and my resistance a bit foolish, I stuck to my vow of silence._

 _Now, even though I am basically free and using my powers, I still can't seem to speak out loud. I'm not sure why._

Erik searched for an appropriate response to what he just learned. He knew Charles wasn't telling him everything, shielding him from experiences, no doubt very horrible, that played a big role in it. The inhibition could be from trauma or something, not telepathy, that Charles simply didn't want him to know. Still, he knew Charles had never shared even this much with anyone, and that touched him. "I will never betray you like that."

 _I know you won't,_ replied Charles confidently. 

"What happened to you, never should have happened." 

 _It's in the past now, Erik. You inspired me to move on. You still do, in fact. I expect I will regain my speech eventually._

Erik found it somewhat ironic that Charles should find such inspiration in him, a man deeply entrenched in the past himself. Yet, he thought he knew what Charles meant. "You trust me."

 _Yes,_ Charles replied simply. 

Erik smiled softly at that. He didn't press on further, satisfied for now. Gradually, the two of them fell asleep.

Erik woke up late the next morning to the feel of Charles's soft lips moving against his. Erik opened his eyes, shifted his arms and began kissing him back. When they broke apart, Erik said, "I could get used to that, you know."

 _That's good because this will be happening a lot._

"Oh?" said Erik playfully. "Not going to get bored of me?"

 _Never,_ Charles returned, grinning.

Erik's gaze turned lustful. "Feeling better this morning?"

 _Hmm, not quite._ Before Erik could frown in disappointment, he added with an impish grin, _Though I know the antidote. You inside me._

Erik's eyes darkened as his cock sprang to life. He reached around with his hands, trailing along the scarred back before arriving at Charles's ass. He took a hold of the small cheeks and squeezed, spreading them. Mine, he thought, not caring if Charles heard.

Charles's breathing quickened. _Yes, all yours, Erik._ He pushed into the strong, large hands.

Erik smiled in satisfaction, tightening his grip, seeking fingers finding his hole. Charles's breath hitched and he squirmed a bit, clenching down on the possessive digits teasing him open. His desire flooded Erik's mind, so Charles closed his eyes, trying not to lose it completely.

Remembering the moan he managed to provoke last night, Erik rolled them so that he now topped Charles, moving his hands so he could pin him down by his arms and forced his legs between his, bringing their bare cocks firmly together. Charles did not disappoint, emitting a hoarse grunt that ended with a high pitched noise which would have embarrassed Erik if he'd been the one making it. As it was, he grinned smugly and ground down powerfully, successfully earning a repeat of the same noise, but louder this time, Charles bucking up into him.

 _Please Erik, I want you inside me...not going to last like this..._

Erik's balls tightened at this, and he thrust down, unable to resist hearing that strangled noise one more time. He reached over to the nightstand where he'd stashed the lube last night and brought himself to a sitting position as he opened the jar, his cock throbbing urgently, Charles's bursts of needy projection urging him to hurry. He lubed up his fingers and wriggled them into the squirming, clenching telepath, greasing his cock with his other hand. Charles was surprisingly loose and pliant already, and, through the thick haze of arousal, Erik remembered Charles's comments about superior control. It seemed he was about to reap the benefits of that. 

Seeing no more reason to wait, he set the jar back on the nightstand and folded Charles's legs into position. He grasped the writhing telepath's hips firmly, pinning them to the bed as he lined himself up, rubbing himself on the hole eagerly pushing towards him. Both gasping now, he entered with one long thrust, marveling at the ease of it, groaning at the heat, tightness, and bliss at being inside him again at last.

Now fully sheathed, he let go of his hips and braced his arms on either side of Charles, relieving him of his not inconsiderable weight. 

 _Please, Erik, dominate me, take me hard, make me forget everyone else..._ Big blue eyes met his beseechingly.

Erik groaned and closed his eyes at the onslaught of desires and images escaping from Charles's mind to his, his balls tightening dangerously. If his little minx wasn't careful, he would come before he could give him what he wanted. Their eyes met again, pupils blown wide, and Erik leaned down, kissing him firmly, thoughts of mine, all mine, intoxicating him. 

The feeling of Charles spreading his legs further and clenching down, squeezing him with his ass was all the encouragement Erik needed to start moving again, adjusting himself to match Charles's fantasies. He sucked and bit at Charles's neck and collarbone, marking him and pinned him with his arms and body while he thrusted into him with all of his considerable strength. 

Charles gasped, squirmed, clenched, and attempted to buck, but could not accomplish more than tiny reflexive jerks under the power of Erik's hold. His cock was  crushed between their stomachs with delicious pressure, though he longed for friction mostly denied him.  His blood ran hot as Erik let loose some of his more aggressive, dominant tendencies, the forcefulness making his somewhat neglected cock jerk. He struggled, attempting to 'escape' but Erik just held him down harder, making his efforts quite futile and his balls tighten. Trapped, in ecstasy at being so thoroughly claimed by someone he wanted, he could do nothing but lie there helplessly as Erik slammed into his prostate, igniting fireworks in his brain and wresting a keening sound from his throat, his reflexive bucking and clenching ruthlessly inhibited by Erik's far superior strength. His legs, the only part of him with any freedom to move, scrabbled uselessly for purchase on the slippery, silken sheets as Erik slammed into his prostate again.

With a broken, wrecked gasp, Erik rammed into that sweet spot yet again, going over the edge as Charles made another debauched noise and clenched tight and hot around him. Sensing Erik's release was more than enough to give Charles the final trigger for his own. Erik loosened his grip on him and rolled off, catching his breath. That had to have been some of the hottest sex he'd ever had, even taking into account all of his previous encounters with Charles.

It astounded him that someone as powerful as his mutant would submit to him like that, for he had no doubt that if Charles wanted, he could have frozen him and turned the tables in an instant. But, at the same time, he could understand Charles's desire to be dominated, to be given a sense of belonging to someone who cared about him and wanted things in his best interest, as there had clearly been precious little of that in his life, even before his slavery. Erik desired the same thing, having missed it dearly since his parents died. All the same, he usually preferred being dominant, hanging on tightly and not letting go, feeling the power to make him stay and not lose him, as he did his parents. 

Noting how sticky, sweaty, and undoubtedly smelly he was, Erik said, "I'm going to take a shower."

 _Really, Erik? That is all you have to say about it? I'm offended,_ Charles said teasingly.

Erik gave him a mock irritated look, knowing full well Charles had complete awareness of how much he enjoyed it. He got up, and Charles followed him into the large, luxurious bathroom and tub. What used to be a mundane chore now was an exciting, playful experience he had no desire to rush.

When they finally emerged from the bathroom, Erik grabbed them large helpings of the complimentary breakfast to bring back to their room. He was quite pleased with the selection, being far superior to the places he usually stayed at, so he got them each a little of almost everything. While he thought having someone around would make him feel intruded and burdened, Charles did no such thing. In fact, he was quite enjoying taking care of him like this, having him there to share things with.

"You should try the blueberry muffins. They're really good," recommended a feminine voice behind him. Erik turned. The first thing he noticed was her eyes: one green, one blue.

"Amy Wallis, Attorney at Law," she introduced herself, smiling.

"Erik Lehnsherr," he returned politely. He gave a short smile back and added the blueberry muffins to the plates. Maybe Charles would let him feed them to him. Just the thought of him sucking the blueberry off his fingers urged him for a round two.

"I've heard of you!" she exclaimed brightly.

Warning bells sounded in Erik's mind. He turned back to her sharply. "You have?"

"Yes. I specialize in slavery laws. I like to research how the laws came to be." She frowned at Erik's blank expression. "You mean, you don't know?"

"Know what?" Erik asked, alarmed, but covering it up with a frown.

"You have a law named after you, known to us lawyers as Lehnsherr's Law. It's admittedly not widely known, just a short sub clause that most people overlook, except for those directly affected. It requires that during testing for mutations, nothing physically harmful is allowed, only drugs. Word got out about the methods used on you and how you turned out to be perfectly normal, and there was all kinds of paperwork to prove it. It appalled quite a few people that a human had been tortured, so the law was made." She paused. "I'm sorry if I seem tactless about your experience. I'm sure it was dreadful."

Erik blinked a few times in surprise. He had heard nothing about this. Then again, directly after his time with Shaw, he'd been shipped off to a government establishment to be educated and cared for until he came of age. He'd been quite solitary and secluded, and admittedly quite depressed for awhile, partly because of persistent, horrible headaches that made him shut himself in dark, silent rooms for hours until they finally passed. It was entirely possible this had gone on without him knowing it. "I didn't know about this," he admitted. A part of him swelled in satisfaction. Though he knew, from experiencing Charles's memory, that the drugs were no picnic, it did hearten him to know that his suffering had bought at least a little less suffering for many mutants and humans, including Charles. It hadn't been completely pointless or in vain.

"Well, there you are. Famous, and you didn't even know it!" She grinned playfully.

Erik let out a short huff of a laugh. He mentally backtracked through the conversation. "You specialize in slavery laws?"

"I do! Back when I was in lawyer school, there was a great need for them because of all the new laws being made so I made that my specialty."

Erik glanced around, then met her cheerful gaze. "I have some questions. Could I make an appointment?"

"No need for that. I have time right now. Did you want to go somewhere private?"

Erik debated. Discussing slaves and what they could and couldn't do in front of Charles held little appeal. He preferred not to acknowledge their legal relationship as much as possible. "I have nothing to hide," he assured her.

"Then let's sit down," she said. He followed her to a comfortable dark green couch in the sitting area of the breakfast room and sat down beside her. "Are you having some kind of problem?"

"No. I recently bought a slave, but I have no idea what my legal expectations and responsibilities are with him."

"Haven't been around them much, have you? Well, I can't say I blame you," she said, smiling sympathetically. "What did you buy him for?"

Caught off guard, Erik turned his head away, trying to come up with something. 'Companion' sounded too pathetic (who wants to say they had to buy someone to spend time with them?) and 'pleasure' sounded too degrading to Charles. He met her heterochromia eyes again. "Just general assistance with my day to day life," he offered finally.

"I didn't mean to pry," she said, sensing his reluctance. "It's just that knowing what his purpose is will help me tailor my answers to your specific situation."

Erik gave a short nod. "I would like a general overview. Also, when restraints are required." Finally he would know for sure what was expected, so he would not risk losing Charles through some legal gaffe.

Erik spent the next half hour discussing the dos and don'ts with the friendly brunette, breakfast forgotten and going cold on the table beside him. He couldn't believe his luck. What were the chances of running into just the kind of person he needed to talk to, especially so fast?

"So," she said, smiling coyly, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "What are your plans for tonight?"

"I'm going to Chumley's for a party," Erik told her, figuring revealing this wouldn't hurt and not wanting to be rude after how helpful she'd been.

"What a coincidence! I'm going there too!" she said, her smile brightening. "What do you say, we go together?"

"I - " started Erik, atypically speechless. He could hardly reveal he considered himself already taken. So he settled for, "I'm bringing my slave."

She laughed. "Oh, don't worry, I meant just as friends." She leaned closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Sorry, but it's pretty obvious you're gay."

Erik gave her a dubious look.

"I mean, come on. A hot man like you, single, at your age? Who obviously doesn't foresee himself in a relationship? I can see no other explanation." She smiled kindly. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

Erik huffed a laugh disbelievingly.

Her face sobered. "Are you aware that the people going are close associates of Sebastian Shaw?" she asked, concerned. 

"Yes," he admitted.

"Then why go? I would think you'd want nothing to do with your former tormentor," she reasoned.

"I know he's coming. I want to get an invite to his boat so I can meet him. Face my past and put it behind me," he told her. He knew that telling her this would make her suspect him when Shaw was found murdered, but that would make no difference if he didn't leave enough evidence to be convicted. Maybe Charles could do something if she did become a problem.

"Well, in that case, maybe I can help you. Put in a good word for you with the guys. I think facing your fears is an admirable thing." She smiled softly.

Erik didn't correct her. He didn't fear Shaw, he hated him. Still, he was growing a bit suspicious. Her arrival was too timely, too helpful. Was something behind this? Some sort of trap? "Why are you really helping me?" he asked seriously.

"You are a very suspicious man, aren't you? Though I do understand why. Well, originally I hoped to pick you up, since I don't have a date tonight, but after getting to know you I realized, of course, that was a no go! Still, I have always wondered what happened to you, since you pretty much fell off the map after you left the government facility. I think it's completely awful what you went through and if there's any way I can help you put it behind you, I will." She paused, her expression kind. "So what do you say? Shall we go together or are you convinced that I'm some sort of secret government agent out to get you?"

Erik smiled in defeat. He'd been a little unsure if he, a complete stranger to them, could charm Shaw's men into an invitation to Shaw's boat through just one 'accidental' meeting at the pub. She obviously knew them and her recommendation of him could be just what he needed. He would have to take the risk of trusting her. "Shall we meet here and drive there together?"

"That would be splendid," she acquiesced. They worked out the details, and then she left him with the two plates of breakfast, gone cold.

Erik felt a stab of guilt for being away from Charles for so long with no explanation, especially if he was as famished as Erik now realized he himself was. Still, he would probably understand once he explained what happened. He reheated the breakfast and returned to their hotel room.

When he entered he paused, smiling softly at the sight of Charles lying on _their_ bed, watching TV. Charles met his gaze as he walked toward him with the plate of food, smiling in thanks as Erik handed it to him. 

"I'm sorry I took so long," Erik apologized. He opened his mouth to start explaining, but Charles cut him off.

 _No need to apologize, Erik. When you didn't come back I reached out to check on you, to make sure everything was all right. So I know what happened. No need to explain._

Erik smiled in relief, climbed up beside him and immediately started eating, ignoring the TV. The vigorous _activity_ this morning made him quite hungry. He glanced over at Charles a few times, privately enjoying the sight of him beside him, on their bed. Now when he would waken from a nightmare, Charles would be there. While he was a grown man and could deal with them himself, they still were no picnic and it was nice to have him there in support.

Come to think of it, he had no nightmares since he'd started sharing a bed with him. He wondered if it was merely having Charles there or if the telepath was doing something to keep them at bay, so they both got a good night's sleep. Either way, he decided to leave it alone, for now, and enjoy the respite.

He was about to eat the muffin when he remembered his earlier fantasy. Charles turned out to be quite amendable to it. Erik soon lost himself in the unbelievably erotic experience of having those red lips suck his fingers clean of the blueberry stains as he fed him. He fairly hummed with pleasure, his worries eased, leaving him atypically optimistic. Everything was falling into place. Things would work out, with everything: Charles, Raven, Shaw.

Shaw's days - hours, even - were numbered.


	11. The Party

 The Party

Erik pulled into the parking lot of Indigo Hotel and Suites, surrounded by shopping bags, Charles's mind reaching out from the seat beside him, and a feeling of accomplishment. When he and Charles got out of the car, a bellhop volunteered to take their purchases up to the top floor, and the valet parked their car. 

The car wasn't the one they had this morning. No, he had switched it out for a rented bright red Jaguar E-type convertible, shiny and new, its main attractive feature for Erik being that it had no back seat. Charles had assured him that showing off his wealth would go a long way to buying favor at the party tonight, so he spared no expense on the car or his shopping trip, buying a fancy suit, watch, and shoes, and other accessories. He also bought Charles clothes and basic necessities for him to keep, along with a suitcase to hold all of his new possessions.

Charles followed him back to their room, chain free. Amy had assured him that he did not need to be chained unless Erik wished it or the property owner demanded it, so he'd left them in the hotel room. Without those horrible restraints, it had been easy to forget their legal relationship. Charles's giddy excitement at being out and about, physically free, getting his own things had been quite contagious, once again transforming a mundane annoyance, like shopping, into a playful, fun experience he had no desire to rush.

As a result, they did not have enough time to go to the doctor's, as Erik had intended, so caught up were they in the novelty of their time together, free of the chains, equals at least in their own minds. But they did still have a bit of time before Amy was due to arrive. Erik, remembering the look of longing on Charles's face the day before when he looked out to the ocean, turned to him. "We have some time. How about we go down to the beach?"

Charles eyes lit up, agreeing. They changed into their swim trunks, giving each other appreciative glances along the way. Before they went down, Erik insisted on thoroughly lathering Charles with sunscreen.  His naturally pale complexion, that was even further paled by his lack of exposure to sun for so long, made him highly vulnerable to sunburn. The fact Erik enjoyed the excuse to rub his hands all over him was an added bonus. That Charles loved it too became obvious as his trunks tented, giving Erik a savory smile.

When Erik ran out of places to rub sunscreen on him, Charles returned the favor. Erik stood still for a few blissful minutes, getting rather excited himself as Charles stroked him everywhere with the lotion, touching him thoroughly in a way he had never before. Finally his resolve cracked. "I think I missed a spot," he said, pointing to Charles's lower back, swiping the bottle from his hand, nailing his target with its contents, rubbing firmly and dipping his hand underneath his trunks. Charles stole it back from him with an impish smile, squirting a large glob on Erik's lower stomach and smearing it, venturing south in much the same way. Thus started a lotion war, stealing the bottle from each other, squirting and rubbing more and more provocative places, up their legs, on their nipples, Charles even rubbing some on Erik's ass underneath his swim trunks, _just in case._

Their playful groping of each other nearly caused them to get sidetracked, but the lure of the outdoors, especially the ocean, called to Charles strongly, and when he realized the time, he told Erik they needed to get going. So they did manage to get out there before too long. Charles reluctantly eased their excitement with a telepathic command that Erik consented to, curious about the ability.

Erik laid himself out on a towel, admiring the view of Charles in his brand new, blue swim trunks, which brought out the blue in those infernal eyes of his. The young man splashed in the surf joyously, seemingly caught up in a memory, presumably of Raven. After a few awkward attempts at swimming, he finally managed a slow doggie paddle. Several minutes later, Charles came back, dripping, and settled on his own beach towel beside Erik. He started making shapes in the sand absently, his eyes far away in a world of his own. Erik thought about Charles's stolen childhood, feeling fond of Charles's attempt to recapture it with a sandcastle. 

When Charles grew bored with the sand, he returned to the ocean, Erik following close behind him. Erik swam around with large, confident strokes, never venturing far, calling out suggestions to Charles on how to improve his swimming, which he was a clearly rusty at. Erik, after thinking it over, decided that it was rather urgent that Charles learn to swim, since they might have to swim for it after he shot Shaw, so he ended up telling him to take it from his mind to be sure he got it.

Swiping his wet bangs away from his eyes, Charles entered Erik's mind slowly, hesitantly, trying to feel what Erik felt, know what Erik knew. After a minute, Erik felt his head start to throb with pain, but he breathed evenly, trying to relax and soothe it somehow. Charles  however, realized soon enough that his efforts to feel what Erik felt caused him pain, so he withdrew. 

Fortunately, even in that brief time he'd gathered enough to improve his swimming significantly. In fact, a few minutes later, Charles dove under and snuck up behind Erik, splashing him and pulling him underwater. Then he surfaced, a bright, impish smile on his face.

"I'm going to get you for that," Erik promised, voice deep, hair dripping water into his eyes.

Charles grinned wider. _You'll have to catch me first._ He took off for the shore, splashing and running like crazy.

Erik grinned and followed, though knowing he could catch him all too easily, didn't try to get him right away, making a game out of it. He grabbed him a few times, allowing Charles to twist free, grinning, and Erik laughing. They reached the shore, and Charles raced back to their towels, kicking up sand, Erik hot on his heels, making half hearted grabs at him with Charles ducking out of the way, a broad grin on his face. 

Finally Erik, seeing that this exertion was beginning to tire his under exercised mutant, decided to put an end to it. He leapt forward and tackled Charles to the ground, twisting him so he was on his back, pale arms pinned beneath his hands. A sound not unlike a laugh escaped Charles, causing Erik's chest to expand in elation. They gazed at each other, smiling. Erik felt a hardness pressing at him through Charles's swim trunks.

So, Charles enjoyed being chased and caught by him. To be honest, he'd rather enjoyed it too, half hard himself. Did he even _have_ an off switch? He'd thought the mind blowing sex they had that morning and their playful groping with the sunscreen would sate him for a good while, but it seemed that he could not get enough of Charles. 

 _Now that you've got me, what are you going to do with me?_ Charles asked suggestively, eagerly, his blue eyes boring into Erik's green ones, his hair mussed around him, their mouths close and opened and panting slightly from the exertion, breaths mingling.

"I'm not letting you go, for starters," stated Erik, a small smile playing at his lips. "It's also payback time." Momentarily forgetting he was on a public beach, he ground down forcefully on Charles's hardness poking at his lower belly.

Charles barely contained a noise and bucked a little at the contact, his breathing increasing a little. _Perhaps we can take this somewhere private?_

Ripping his intense regard away from Charles, he glanced around at the fellow sunbathers he'd barely spared a thought to, noting the increasing stares pointed in their direction. Erik reluctantly rolled off of him. They were running out of time, anyway. They needed to go back to their room and get ready for the party. Damn it all.

He suffered from blue balls far too much around Charles.

They gathered their towels and made their way back to their room, dusting sand off themselves and each other along the way before they entered the hotel. They showered together, but, being short on time, didn't mess around beyond a few knowing, lustful looks. 

Erik couldn't wait for the party to be over with already. 

Maybe he just wouldn't go. Tempted, he thought over the possibilities. Maybe he could find the boat somehow tomorrow and sneak on. Charles could help him out quite a bit. But, as he continued to mull it over, there were just too many unknowns in that scenario, and Charles's ability, while good, wasn't real dependable yet. If it was just him, he would risk it, but he had Charles to consider now, and he couldn't leave him behind, especially if he had to make a quick getaway. Best to be invited and go with his eyes wide open, scoping out the situation in a safe manner, waiting for a good opportunity.

With a resigned air, Erik got spiffed up in his expensive outfit, and Charles put on his white one from the brothel. At the appointed time, Amy knocked on their door. Erik opened it with an attempt to school his features into a friendly expression rather than a wary or frustrated one. 

"Ha-llo, Erik," she greeted brightly, clad in an attractive yet professional black dress.

Erik stepped out into the hall, with Charles following close behind him. 

Amy and Charles's gazes met, silent for a beat too long in Erik's estimation. Before Erik could think on it, Amy spoke up again. "And what do you call him? Anything, or just 'slave'?"

"I call him Charles," Erik informed her.

"Well, Charles, you are quite adorable," she complimented him, in the way someone might say that about a kitten. She looked at Charles expectantly, but he did nothing beyond offer a small smile. "Doesn't he talk?" she asked, shifting her gaze back to Erik.

"I -" Erik searched for a response. If he expected to win a spot on Shaw's boat, he doubted any sign of weakness towards Charles would impress her or the rest of them, since they obviously supported strict slavery and suppression of mutants. So he settled for, "I don't allow him to speak."

"Interesting," said Amy. "But not unheard of."  With a last curious glance at Charles, they set off for Erik's convertible.

 _Her eyes are the most groovy mutation, aren't they?_ Charles  commented enthusiastically, exchanging a look with Erik behind Amy's back. _I would really love to study that. Find out how that happens._

Erik gave him a small, acknowledging smile, unable to resist Charles's enthusiasm for learning. The three of them climbed into the Jaguar, with Charles squashed in the middle. Amy gave Erik directions for the quickest way to Chumley's, shouting them over the rush of air as they sped to their destination. Erik personally thought it couldn't get any better than this: speeding in a hot car with Charles pressed tightly against his side on a warm, sunny day, his life's goal within reach.

They arrived at Chumley's and strode in. Voices chatting and laughing met his ears, smoke filled his nose, and he suppressed a cough. The moderate lighting revealed it was full of polished wooden tables, mostly full of customers already, even though it was a bit early still. Clearly, this place was popular. 

Erik, having no idea what the group of men looked like, followed Amy and waited for Charles's direction and suggestions. Charles was oddly silent, however, so Erik depended on Amy to find the right people. In fact, his head had felt strangely empty and silent from the moment he'd stepped in the place. Lonely. Erik glanced back at Charles, but he was still there, though with the new addition of a puzzled frown.

Amy led them to a table in a separate room full of people, mostly men but a few women there as well. She sat herself down on the side closest to the door. Erik sat down beside her and unthinkingly pulled out a chair for Charles. Charles just smiled a little and shook his head, settling himself on the floor at Erik's feet. Erik expected some kind of mental explanation, but none came. He glanced at Charles, concern increasing, but was unable to investigate further, because Amy spoke up then, introducing him to the group. Apparently she'd already given them the lowdown on him for they accepted his presence without question.

Erik smiled, stood, and shook everyone's hands, attempting to remember all their names. No one asked about Charles, who continued to sit on the floor, utterly silent, and, to Erik's mounting dismay, a bit tense. Introductions complete, he settled back in his chair and ordered a beer when the bartender came over. He felt Charles lean onto his leg, and was alarmed to detect shaking from his small form. Pretending to drop something on the floor, he bent down and hissed into Charles's ear, "What's the matter?" Erik straightened up immediately so no one would wonder what he'd been doing. But, still no answer from Charles.

The man sitting next to him - Jerry, he thought his name was - spoke up, distracting him from his concern about Charles's refusal to communicate. He made small talk with him, not saying anything of substance until Amy took matters into her own hands.

"Erik here has really been living the good life. He's come a long way from his rough start. He's ready to let bygones be bygones and make nice with Shaw - aren't you, Erik?" she prodded with a smile.

"Yes," lied Erik with an arrogant grin. "I've done quite well these years. I truly admire the world Shaw has helped to create: a safe, prosperous place for us humans, all united under the UN. Even the greatest of us make mistakes. He admitted to making one. No lasting harm was done. I wish to make peace with him and offer my...considerable....wealth and services to advance his noble cause."

"Inspiring," said Howard, an overweight, red hair balding man with a strange habit of wearing sunglasses indoors. He peered over the table, catching sight of the top of Charles's head. "Say, is he yours?"

"Yes," said Erik without having to manufacture the pride in his voice. 

"Well, let's see him then," a Native American looking man with long, silver hair - wasn't his name Paul? - requested.

Hating himself, Erik took hold of Charles by the shoulders and forced him to stand, mentally shouting his apologies. Still not even a whisper of telepathy in response. Erik fought to paste a smile on his face as the other men and women appraised Charles.

"Isn't he just adorable?" said Amy, smiling.

"Watch it Lehnsherr, or she'll snap him right up," warned a white haired man, named Donald, with a good natured smile. "She has quite the weakness for any slave who strikes her as cute. Why, she took a shine to one of mine years back, a young teenage boy with big feet. Ended up trading him for legal representation."

"She persuaded me to sell mine too some months ago," piped up Howard. "A young red head boy I had. Though to be honest, I think I got the better end of the stick on that one. We couldn't figure out how to control his mutation, short of gagging or sedating him. Kept breaking all the windows and glass when he decided to scream."

"And I don't think he ever quite got over it. He still looks like he's stoned all the time, whenever I've seen him," commented Paul. "Though I don't think Amy drugs him, do you?"

"He's just adorable. I couldn't drug him! I've eliminated the glass in my house and keep him away from the windows," Amy explained to Erik, as if she was talking about a naughty puppy. "But you needn't worry about me squirreling Charles away from you, as cute as he is. I know he isn't for sale."

Through the conversation, Erik's grip on Charles's shoulders had increased, as if he expected one of them to steal him away. Amy had apparently noticed. Charles kept his gaze lowered and expression blank, his body tense and shaking slightly. He leaned into Erik and pushed himself into his grip, as if he wanted to crawl inside Erik, if he could. Out of sight of the group, Erik rubbed the back of his shoulders with his thumbs, the only reassurance he could offer right now.

"Looks a bit peaked, doesn't he?" commented Howard. 

Getting an idea, Erik swung himself and Charles around so he had his back to the group, pretending to look him over. Now that the others couldn't see him, he hissed to Charles in the barest whisper, "Pretend like you need to puke."  Louder, he said, "Now that you mention it - looks like he might have food poisoning or something - oh no, excuse me!" Erik exclaimed, as Charles's face paled further and he doubled over. Erik hurriedly dragged him to the bathroom and locked the door. 

Barely two seconds later, Amy knocked. "Is everything all right in there?"

Charles gave Erik a hint of a smile, turned, and puked loudly into the toilet.

"Not at the moment, but we should be okay in a few minutes," explained Erik, looking at the door, though he couldn't see her.

"Okay, I'll save your beer for you then," said Amy. Her footsteps retreated.

Erik turned back to Charles, who was washing his mouth out in the sink. "You can puke on command?" asked Erik incredulously.

Charles smiled and nodded.

Erik grinned, amusement battling with his concern, flashes of hilarious scenarios running through his mind, laughter bubbling in his stomach. "Ever done it before? Thrown up on someone's shoes or something?"

Charles gave him an impish grin, but it slid off his face quicker than Erik liked. He decided to cut to the chase, the real reason he'd diverted Charles here. "What's the matter? Why aren't you?" Erik gestured between their heads.

Charles sobered, his ever present tension here going starker. He pointed to the back of his neck a short moment.

Erik frowned. "It reactivated?" 

A nod.

"They must have a PMS device then," Erik said uneasily. While he'd known, theoretically, that Charles shouldn't venture off on his own because of these kinds of dangers and more, the reality of it still caught him off guard. "Nothing I can do until we get back to our room," Erik concluded in frustration. "Will you be all right?" Charles nodded a bit unconvincingly, but Erik accepted that answer. "You do know I don't mean anything I say here?" he couldn't help but add in attempt to somehow wipe the unhappy look off of Charles's face. 

Charles met his gaze, smiled softly, and nodded.

"Good. Then, let's get back out there." Charles followed Erik back to the table, where he sat back down on the floor, leaning against Erik's leg when he retook his seat. 

Erik surveyed the room, nervousness growing in his stomach. He'd gotten far too used to Charles's telepathy, far too quickly. How would he proceed successfully without it? How would he spot trouble coming?  To top things off, his intuition for metal had grown weaker lately, his head hurting whenever he tried to sense it, so he didn't even have that to help him search out weapons. He should have left Charles the hotel, out of danger, away from this humiliation. He would have, if he'd known his abilities would be blocked. "He's fine," he reassured everyone, when they took notice of his reappearance. "Though I might take him to the doctor soon. Know any good ones?"

Amy beat them all to the punch. "I can set you up with a good one," she said. "Though it might take a few days. He's very busy. Do you think he'll he okay until then?"

Erik nodded. "He'll survive," he said carelessly. "He's prone to this sort of thing. Bit of a weakling."

"They all are, really," said Howard, and several nodded in agreement. Erik kept a smile pasted on his face, then downed the rest of his beer.

"Your slave looks familiar, but I haven't been able to place him," said Paul. "Where did you get him? Have you had him long?"

"I got him from a brothel up north recently," Erik explained.

"That's right!" exclaimed Paul, realization dawning on his face. "I remember now. He was in a brothel south of here. I went there for a bit of entertainment one night some years ago."

Erik found Paul's ensuing grin rather unsettling, feeling sick at the thought of this slime ball anywhere near Charles. He felt Charles take a hold of his leg strong enough to cut off his circulation, but he did not have the heart to complain. He forced his lips in a conspiratorial grin. "He is good at that," Erik gritted out, feeling sick, though someone watching him would think him thinking along the same lines as Paul.

"Never made a sound. Have you broken him of that?"

"It's not an issue. I won't let him speak," Erik stated. 

"Good match for you, then. I tried everything but he just wouldn't give in."

A second hand joined the first, gripping his leg just as firmly, warm, uneven breaths puffing between the crushing handholds. Underneath the table, Erik reached out a hand an rubbed Charles's hunched, tight upper back reassuringly. He had a sudden vision of petting a dog the same way. He sure hoped that Charles wasn't taking it like that. But there wasn't much else he could do for him right now, short of giving up the entire plan to get to Shaw. "He is a good match for me," Erik agreed. Then, realizing how that might sound, added, "Very obedient."

"Let's see it then," said Paul, standing up and coming over in interest.

Erik wanted to refuse, but everyone was looking at him expectantly. If he was to impress them and win favor and trust, convince them that he was one of them, he had to put on a show. "Charles, stand up," he said firmly, though his hand, out of sight, was still gentle.

Charles released his leg, and Erik fought to keep from making a face as sensation returned to it. The mutant stood up slowly, a bit shakily, gaze still averted to the ground. Once Erik's leg was recovered enough, he stood too, facing Charles. He searched his mind quickly for something that might impress the others but hopefully not be too humiliating for Charles. So he settled for, "Kiss me."

Charles put trembling hands on Erik's shoulders, closed his eyes and pressed his lips to his. Erik kept his eyes open, wrapping his arms tightly around Charles, more protectively than possessively, though a perverse part of him thrilled to the heady feeling of showing that Charles was his to a room full of people. After several seconds, he decided it was enough, and gently pushed Charles away.

"Impressive," said Paul as if Charles was some kind of dog who'd done a very neat trick. "He had a real reputation for stubborn disobedience back when I met him."

"He was no better when I got him, but we reached an...understanding...in the end," said Erik. Paul only stood a few feet away now, so he had to resist the urge to pull Charles behind himself.

"You succeeded where the government failed, then. A great asset to our group," mused Paul. "What's your secret?"

Erik blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Alcohol," he said. "Keeps him docile."

Several men chuckled. "Never thought of that," commented Howard, clearly amused. "Must be suffering from hangover, then?"

"You're probably right," agreed Erik, glad for the convenient explanation for Charles's retching.

"You wouldn't mind sharing him, would you? We could use a good bit of entertainment tonight," Donald piped in. 

Charles grabbed Erik's arm in a crushing grip, and he searched his mind desperately for some excuse. Fortunately, Amy decided to intervene. "Come now, must you all really be so focused on sex? We have a job to do. We're here on business. Shaw is going to be here tomorrow and we need to be ready."

"You're such a spoilsport, Amy," another man, who Erik forgot the name of, complained. Several agreed.

"She's right, we need to talk business," defended Howard. Erik figured he must be one of the leaders, for at his insistence, the group reluctantly quieted.

"Let's start with a toast," suggested Erik, intensely relieved. "To Shaw, the man who helped pave the way to a better world, and continues to serve such an exceptional end." He raised his glass, along with everyone else, then sat back down. Charles released his arm and settled back on the floor.

Jerry began passing out letters to everyone except Erik. "Sorry, but you don't know the code," he said.

"What's all this?" asked Erik, though he thought he had a pretty good idea.

"Intel that's been gathered for Shaw all around Europe. We believe there's some kind of organized illegal activity going on in regards to the slave trade so we've been trying to track it. Now we're all going to read it, put together the puzzle pieces, and come up with a report for Shaw." A few minutes after he finished distributing, and everyone had begun to read quietly, he spoke again. "Say, do any of you have Rowle's letter by chance? I don't remember seeing it."

Erik's mind leapt to the letter, which currently resided in his suitcase at the hotel. He tried to think of a way to use it to his advantage, but considering how easily it could backfire, he decided not to. "Rowle?"

"Barber from up north. Say, you came from there recently, didn't you?" said Jerry. "Did you meet him, by chance?"

"Yes. I had my hair cut by a barber named Rowle. Must be the same one, because he told me about this meeting," Erik lied.

"Maybe it got delayed in the mail. He has terrible handwriting," someone suggested, to general sounds of assent.

After that, their conversation made no sense. Erik realized they had launched into some code he didn't recognize, most likely the same one from the letter. Amy smiled apologetically and made small talk with him occasionally so he didn't get bored as he sipped at his beer. Charles sat utterly still below him, but Erik didn't spare him much more than a few glances, despite his concern, observing the group instead. Howard did most of the talking, cutting in several times, and by the long suffering looks on their faces, it was something he did with annoying regularity.

Finally they wrapped up their meeting, with Erik none the wiser about what was said, especially with Charles's inability to help. Erik followed Amy out the door, with Charles trailing close behind him. 

When they settled into the car, Amy finally spoke up about the verdict. "Congratulations. They all decided to extend an invitation for you to join them on Shaw's boat tomorrow. Whether Shaw will grant you a private audience is beyond their control, but you can at least be there for dinner, and Shaw might make an appearance then. I will come to your hotel room when he arrives and take you to where the Caspartina docks."

Erik nodded, his surge of triumph muted by the sight of Charles slumped by his side, face pale and blank, a stark change from the glowing, playful man he'd been before the party. He had succeeded, but at what cost? How would he make this up to Charles?

Too caught up with his concern, Erik did not spare any more attention to Amy for the rest of the drive back to the hotel or notice her secret smile as she observed him.


	12. Caspartina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! I felt like crap this week, which killed my creative juices. I feel a lot better now though. :) Enjoy!

Caspartina

Erik shifted the Jaguar into park near the front door of Indigo, his arm reaching across Charles's lap. Amy gave them a swift goodbye as they all climbed out of the car, disappearing into the darkness of the late hour. Erik gave a nod to the valet, face half silhouetted by the streetlamp. Charles stood huddled by him closely, expression blank, pale skin glowing in the meager light. Erik threw an arm around him and led him back to their room in silence.

When Erik opened the door, he slid his arm from Charles's shoulders and wasted no time in fishing for the chip deactivator from his suitcase. Finally he would be able to have a conversation with Charles that expanded from yes and no answers, and Charles would hopefully feel better once his powers returned. 

He finally found the black metallic instrument that resembled a pencil or pen. Puzzled, he studied it for a second. Moira had never shown him how it worked.   He'd just have to wing it. He looked up at Charles, who was watching him intently, desperation in his eyes. Erik straightened and gestured for him to turn around, his finger twirling in a circle. Charles complied, backing up close to him so the scarred base of his skull was within easy reach. Erik gently smoothed the hair away and pointed the deactivator at the scar, touching it lightly. Nothing happened, so he dragged his fingers from his other hand over it until he found a button. 

The instrument buzzed in his hand, startling him, but he held it steady, until a rush of emotion - Charles's - caused him to fumble, almost dropping it, before he hastily returned it to his suitcase, _fear helplessness hurt trauma pain hopelessness depression loneliness_ swimming loudly in his mind, blurring his vision, breathing labored, throat tight. A tear slid down his face of its own volition. He wiped his eyes to clear them, coming around to face Charles, surprised to find the expression blank and still, face dry. From what leaked from him, he'd expected the telepath to be  weeping profusely. Beneath the void exterior, he also sensed a deep rage rising indignantly from his deeply wounded past, dark and dangerous.

Erik did not know what to do. Unbidden, a long buried memory of his mother floated to his mind. He'd been upset about something, he no longer remembered what, but that wasn't important. All he remembered was how she'd responded, the soft, understanding smile, listening patiently, then gently placing her hands on his shoulders, bending over, black hair draping around her face, her black, loving eyes meeting his, flowery perfume wafting by his nose. "It will be all right," she'd said, and pulled him into a hug. He'd believed her, warm reassurance filling him. She would make it all right. She always did.

Inspired by this, he placed his hands on Charles's shoulders, crouching lower and lower until Charles finally met his gaze. He hesitated before speaking. He did not believe in empty reassurances any more, having grown out of them at the sound of the bullets that ended his parent's lives, and he doubted Charles did either. _Desire fear pleading love want_ rushed through him, and Erik knew, then, what Charles wanted. "I'm not going anywhere." He tightened his grip, fingers digging into the soft flesh of his arms, bunching the sheer white shirt. He voice grew deeper. "And you're not getting away from me." There would be no abandonment, no betrayal from Erik. He would not be like everyone else in Charles's life that the telepath vividly recalled now due to tonight's events.

Charles, at the moment, did not seem to be up to controlling his telepathy, so Erik was freely privy to the curl of desire that rose in Charles at his words. He knew what Charles wanted, to be shown, physically, forcefully, what Erik felt, that he had no intention of letting him go, much the same as he had this morning, chasing away his fear and demons. But there was something sad about him too, some insecurity, some belief that with his past as a slave, with his status in society, he was pathetic, had little to offer Erik. This cooled his desire to dominate him in the same way he did this morning. Instead, he wanted to do this for Charles, to show him how he felt, that Charles was far more than he saw himself now.

Coming to a decision, he crowded Charles against the wall, the mutant allowing himself to be pressed against it without resistance, his eyes wide and staring, pupils blown as he waited for Erik's next move, their quickened breaths mingling, lips parted slightly. Erik released Charles's shoulders, running his hands down his sides, before grasping his hips tightly, his eyes intent on Charles's the whole time. Then he dropped to his knees, as if in worship.

A frission of surprise filled his mind. _Erik, what-?_

Erik let go of his hips, his large hands shifting to unzip Charles's pants and pull them down partway, along with the boxers. Now Charles's cock stood erect, exposed, leaking precome, just inches from Erik's mouth as he licked his lips. Realization, surprise and lust surged through his mind that he knew belonged to Charles, who shifted beneath his hands. Erik reached around back to Charles's hips, encasing them in an unyielding, iron grip that heightened both of their arousal and anticipation, Erik's own erection uncomfortably encased in his suit that he had yet to remove. 

His breath ghosted over Charles's cock as he contemplated how to give his first blowjob. He'd never been with a man before, so the only things he would have to draw from would be what he liked done to him by Charles, and what the telepath projected. Judging by how arousal now trumped all of Charles's previous negative emotions, with the mere image of Erik kneeling there before him, dashingly handsome in his suit, pinning him against the wall, looking like he was about to eat his cock, driving everything else from the telepath's mind, he must not be doing too bad for a beginner.

Experimentally, he leaned forward and licked his cock just beneath the head, causing Charles to jerk and gasp, his hands clamping down on Erik's wrists, twisting uselessly in the overpowering grip on his hips as Erik licked him a few more times. Then he wrapped his lips around the head and tongued the slit, earning a keening, wrecked sound from Charles's throat, his attempts to buck completely stalled by Erik's hands that mercilessly continued to pin him against the wall, his hands pulling at Erik's arms no match for their strength. He squirmed helplessly as Erik began sucking, slowly drawing him further into his mouth, breathing steadily through his nose. Knees starting to go stiff, he shifted, then hummed. Charles jerked violently, keening, gasping, his desperate attempts to thrust and relieve the pressure in his balls completely frustrated by his immobility. Erik got lost in Charles's pleasure as he continued, his awareness of it growing to the point he felt his own cock was being sucked too, drawing them both higher into the inevitable explosion. 

Startled out of the cerebral, Erik chocked a bit on the come filling his mouth, spilling it out the sides of his lips, before swallowing it, aware now also of the mess he'd made in his expensive suit. He let Charles's cock slide gently out of his mouth and released his hips, raising his eyes to meet Charles's. "Read my mind," he said to him, wanting him to see again for himself how Erik viewed him, adored him.

Charles's eyes bored into his, and Erik felt a sensation similar to someone looking over his shoulder, except more pleasant, like a caress. The telepath's eyes softened.

A loud rapping on the door caused them both to jump.

Charles hurriedly redid his pants, and Erik stood, thinking quickly. "Just a moment!" he hollered, stripping his ruined suit. Charles handed him a fresh set of shirt and pants, which he pulled on in a rush, before opening the door.

To his surprise, Amy stood on the other side, smiling apologetically. "Sorry, but Shaw arrived early, and he's real keen on getting things done here quickly, so I'm afraid if you want to see him you'll have to leave now."

Erik stared at her somewhat uncomprehendingly, his thoughts muddled from the sex, telepathy, and this unexpected development. 

Amy bit her lip, fighting back a smile, before losing the battle, a knowing grin engulfing her face. "No need to interrupt your fun. You can always wait until he comes back next, you know."

Erik gave her a stern look, thoughts of Shaw and his rage against him effectively focusing his thinking. "Not a chance," he said darkly, then, realizing he wasn't giving the right impression, amended, "I've waited long enough. I want this all behind me now."

"Then I'll wait for you in the lobby. Don't worry about dressing up, I think half of us will be in street clothes anyway, as unprepared as we are. It's unusual for him to be early, if anything, he's usually late." She frowned, glancing away, puzzled at this realization. "So just get comfortable, get whatever you need, and I will see you in a few!" 

Erik nodded and watched her retreating back as he closed the door. He turned around, meeting Charles's questioning gaze. Erik started forming a plan. "I'll need my gun. Will you be able to make it invisible to them if they look for it?"

 _Yes, as long as they do not have a PMS device._

"Fuck," Erik cursed. He hadn't thought about it, but it made sense that Shaw, of all people, would probably have one. What would he do then? "We'll just wing it," he decided, pocketing the weapon. He'd find a way to sneak it on one way or another. "In fact, why don't you just stay behind -"

The rage that had been deeply buried in Charles rose to the surface now as he stepped closer to Erik vehemently, big blue eyes flashing in indignation. _NO! No, Erik, you are NOT LEAVING ME BEHIND!_

Erik brought his hands up defensively. "If he has that device, and you can't use your powers, I hate to think of what could happen -"

Charles ignored his concern. _I'm not letting you face him alone._

"I'll be fine," insisted Erik, but Charles plowed on.

 _Don't forget, you are not the only one he's hurt. He is one of the ones at fault for everything that's happened to mutants, what's happened to me! That he continues to do! I'm coming with you, Erik._

Erik thread his hands through his hair in frustration. He didn't have time to argue with him. Amy was waiting. Their time would be better spent coming up with some kind of plan. "Fine. When we get on the boat, and if we need to get away from everyone to catch Shaw alone, and you don't have your telepathy, do that puking routine again when I give you the signal."

Charles's anger ebbed, though he gave him a slightly resentful look. _That's hardly pleasant,_ he objected.

"Do you have something better? We don't have much time," Erik shot back, frustrated. Why did Shaw have to come early? He thought he'd have more time to strategize!

Charles nodded his agreement to the plan reluctantly.

"All right. Have everything you need?" Erik inquired as he pocketed his car keys and packed their suitcases. They might need to make a quick getaway so he wanted to be prepared.

Charles nodded, so the two of them snuck out the back way to drop the suitcases off in the car so Amy would not see them and wonder why they were bringing them. Then they hurried to the lobby, adrenalin rising in anticipation. 

They followed Amy by car to the docks in tense silence, with Erik alternating between wishing he'd left Charles at the hotel and dark glee at being so near to his revenge. Charles had tamped down quite a bit on his telepathy, so insight to what he thought was now sparse. 

They pulled into the parking lot by the docks. Erik strategically parked the convertible near the exit in case they needed to make a quick getaway without being too obvious. The pair got out and followed Amy down a very long dock, the way lit sporadically with lamps. Behind her back, Erik wordlessly thread his hand through Charles's, and the telepath smiled at him briefly.

At the end of the dock floated the Caspartina, a sizable black boat with three well lit decks. If Erik hadn't been told that a submarine docked underneath it, he would have never known, for it showed no sign of it. He could see some people sitting on the top deck, but other than snatches of their chatter and the murmur of the waves, silence pervaded.

"We're not all here yet," Amy said as they walked the ramp onto the ship. "But everyone should be here within an hour." Erik released Charles's hand, shifting his attention to mapping out the area, noting all doors, ramps, ladders, stairs, walkways, ropes, etc, were so they could be utilized at a moment's notice if need be. They followed Amy to the top deck. 

"Still got your?" Erik tapped his temple, whispering to Charles before they came into the view of the others. 

 _Yes,_ Charles replied.

Erik smiled in relief, though he still thought it odd that Shaw did not have a PMS device. He sat down at a table with Amy, and Charles settled quietly at his feet, much more relaxed than earlier that evening.

"You'll have to wait awhile. He has many people he meets with. But he's sure to come out at some point. Either that, or he'll invite you in."

Erik acknowledged her with a look. "Seems to be pretty lax security for a high ranking government official," commented Erik, surprised no one had asked him yet about his gun. Though that could be Charles's doing, of course.

Amy laughed. "He's always been like that. A bit arrogant if you ask me, but then again, he has proven himself capable. He's killed every assassin that has tried to take him down without so much as a scratch. I think he likes luring them in with the pretense of an easy kill."

Erik glanced down, expecting some kind of reaction from Charles at this news, but he seemed strangely preoccupied with something.

"Still, he does have some defenses. He once showed me his anti-telepathy helmet, and his meeting room is shielded against telepaths too. Don't know why he simply doesn't install a PMS device, but he must have his reasons."

 _It's true,_ confirmed Charles, attention once more on the conversation. _Wherever Shaw is meeting, I cannot penetrate it._

"Every genius has his quirks," said Erik. 

Some people came out of the cabin onto the deck, and Amy excused herself, saying it was her turn to meet with Shaw, leaving the two alone.

Erik contemplated what he just learned. Shaw was capable, certainly, but he was only human, and Erik was well prepared. Plus, if he got him in a place where Charles could use his telepathy, he would have nothing to worry about. Ideally he'd wait until most people left so it would be easier to escape afterward. 

It was just a waiting game now.

Amy emerged a little while later. "Sorry to run out on you, but I need to go," she said. "I trust you can find your way back to your hotel?"

Erik nodded.

"Goodbye then, and good luck." Amy glanced down to Charles, the look lasting a beat too long, Erik thought, before she turned and said her goodbyes to everyone else.

Erik wanted to ask Charles if he'd picked up anything strange from Amy, but something stopped him. Surely if he had, he'd have told him immediately?

More people arrived, some filing in to meet with Shaw, some sitting around like him, waiting for their turn. He recognized Howard, and the man strode up to him, engaging him in a long conversation, mostly about various slaves he'd had and how he dealt with various behaviors. Erik made up a bunch of advice of his own of fictitious things he claimed had worked with Charles. Howard talked tirelessly, going on and on, still wearing those sunglasses of his. Erik didn't think he'd ever met a man who talked so much. Gradually the boat cleared until it was just the three of them, plus whoever Shaw had in the meeting room and the submarine. Erik nodded politely at the correct intervals, wondering when Howard would finally lose interest in the conversation and leave.

Then the door opened, and Shaw came out. Erik took in the hated sight, narrowing his eyes.

Howard rattled on, oblivious. 

For a minute, Erik tried to cut in and tell Howard he needed to talk to Shaw, but the man wouldn't let him get a word in edgewise. He was about to just go, politeness and good impressions be damned, when Charles made a horrible choking noise and ran for the railing.

Erik hurried after him, and seconds later the sounds of retching could be heard.

Howard followed him, but didn't get too close. "No offense, but I think you should reconsider taking him anywhere with food and drink. This habit of his is most unappetizing. Well, I need to go, so, goodnight!"

"Goodnight," and good riddance, Erik thought. "Good one, Charles," he whispered to the puking telepath. "You can stop now, he's gone."

When Charles turned around, his face was completely ashen, his eyes wide. Erik decided that much puking in one night was more than enough, and he would bar Charles from it in the future. He turned quickly then, barely giving the mutant time to recover, striding over to Shaw, trusting that Charles would follow him closely.

The nearer he got to Shaw, the more his rage grew, shutting everything else from his mind. The man looked exactly as he remembered, minus the glasses.

 _Erik, we need to rethink killing Shaw,_ Charles projected, his mental voice shaky and horrified.

Erik ignored him, his blood running hot at the sight of the bastard smiling and laughing with Paul. Shaw saw him, then turned back to Paul. "I'm going to talk with Erik now. I eagerly await your report at our next meeting," he dismissed him.

Fortunately, Paul was much quicker to take a hint than Howard had been with Erik, and left quickly with a polite farewell. 

Now it was just the three of them.

"Ah, little Erik Lehnsherr. It has been far too long," greeted Shaw with a doting smile. "You have a new acquisition."

Erik contemplated shooting him here and now, but realized he needed to give Paul time to get further away, so he decided to stall for time a bit. "Shaw. This is my new slave. I call him Charles," he introduced, his grin menacing and fake. He gave Charles only the barest of glances, rage intent on Shaw, and therefore missed the sickened, horrified expression on the telepath's face.

"A fine specimen, if a bit sickly," commented Shaw. "Would you like some champagne?"

"I'll pass," said Erik, trying to calculate how far away Paul was right now. Surely far enough.

"So much for the pleasantries," complained Shaw. "I've been told you wish to speak with me. Form an alliance."

"Yes," lied Erik, casually inching his hand closer to his gun, heart thumping in anticipation. So, so close now.

"I doubt that," said Shaw.

"Why?" asked Erik, his fingers starting to close around the handle.

"Because Wolverine, or as some call him, Logan, is currently hiding underneath the dock. No doubt to back up an assassination attempt."

Though shocked at this news, Erik had not trained all these years for nothing, instantly whipping out his gun. Shaw lunged forward and touched him with his index finger.

Erik slammed to the ground like he'd collided with a freight train, almost losing grip on his gun. He blinked, momentarily stunned, before looking up and realizing that Shaw now had a gun pointed at him, poised to fire.

"A waste of potential," lamented Shaw. "The things you and I could have accomplished together." Shaw clicked the safety off his gun, his finger tensing on the trigger aimed at Erik's head.

Erik waited, glaring at Shaw hatefully. And waited. And waited.

Shaw didn't so much as twitch, completely frozen.

Erik barely glanced at the telepath at his side. "Thanks Charles." He raised his gun, pointing it at Shaw's head. "This is for my parents."

 _ERIK! NO! PLEASE! WAIT! LISTEN TO ME!_

"Sorry Charles. But I'm going to do this." Erik removed the safety, his finger on the trigger. Now was the moment. His time had finally come. Surely Charles understood this. There was no stopping now. He had to do this, had to avenge his parents.

 _NO! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! I CAN'T -_

BANG.

A chilling scream rent the air as Shaw collapsed, dead. As if in slow motion, Erik turned, realizing that terrible sound was coming from Charles, who was whiter than a ghost, gripping his head. He collapsed on the ground abruptly, his scream cut off. Now silent, a little bit of blood trickled out of his ears and mouth. He looked dead.

For a moment, Erik sat as if he was now the  one frozen, overcome with horror. Then he rushed to Charles, pulling him in his lap and checking for a pulse. There! He was alive, but just barely.

"Come on," said Logan, appearing out of seemingly nowhere, his hairy image swimming in his blurred vision. Erik didn't spare much thought to why or how Logan was here, his entire being in shocked horror at how dead Charles appeared. His mind felt as empty as it did at Chumley's, lonely, silent. Even when Charles slept, he had more telepathic presence than this. The implications made him sick with dread.

Logan broke the silence again, voice urgent. "Let's get him to the nearest safehouse. I know a doctor who will help him."

In a horrified trance, Erik scooped up Charles carefully, as if he was made of glass, and followed Logan off of the  Caspartina, carelessly abandoning Shaw's body, senses on high alert for any pursuit. After all, the gunshot had hardly been quiet. Someone must have heard, and it would only be a matter of time before they came running. Logan led them to a black, nondescript car, their suitcases already inside. Erik climbed in, refusing to let go of the telepath, sitting them in the back, so Logan climbed into the driver's seat, driving like a madman to their destination. Though he had many questions about Logan's presence and actions, and Shaw's knowledge of them, his mind skittered past them, filing them away for later, and refocused on the dead weight in his arms.

A thousand thoughts rushed through his head, replaying the shooting. Charles hadn't necessarily been trying to stop him from killing Shaw. He'd been trying to tell him that he wasn't sure what would happen if Erik fired while he was in Shaw's head. He could see that now. He'd been such a fool, such a blind, enraged fool, and now Charles, gentle Charles, who had done nothing but help him, saved his life twice, in fact, and now had to pay for it.

Once again, someone close to him was dead or possibly dying. It was like his parents being shot all over again, except now even worse. He'd been the one to fire the shot. This was all his fault. It seemed everyone who got close to him died way before their time, all due to him not listening, charging ahead, arrogantly thinking all was well, when they tried to tell him it wasn't. His thoughts raced ahead to what he must do, for Charles's sake: leave him for good, before he got hurt worse, if he wasn't dying already.


	13. Safe House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting with this chapter, I now have a a beta, usakeh. She is totally awesome! :)

Logan drove like a madman to the outskirts of town before finally slowing down, turning down a dirt road surrounded thickly by trees. After a minute, Erik realized it was merely a driveway, for a large house loomed through the trees. It was difficult to notice anything but its size in the darkness. When they reached the attached garage, Logan screeched the car to a stop and nearly ripped out the door in his haste to get out.  
   
"Shit, Amy's going to be pissed," cursed Logan as he surveyed the damaged metal.  
   
Erik got out of the car with considerably more care, mostly due to holding Charles. Logan made to take Charles from him, but at Erik's glare, he changed his mind and hurried around to the back of the house, Erik hot on his heels.  
   
"Did you just say 'Amy?’" asked Erik suspiciously.  
   
"Yes. Amy Wallis, and she's going to be pissed about all of this, but she'll get over it; there's nowhere else we can take him," Logan explained. Erik still didn't quite understand how she fit into all this, but they had no time to argue. He'd just have to trust that Logan knew what he was doing.  
   
When they reached the back of the mansion, Logan threw open a door in the ground. They descended some steps, Erik taking extra care not to trip, since  he couldn't see where he was going very well. Logan opened the door at the bottom, held it open for Erik to step through, and then closed it after him. Much like at Moira's safe house, the foyer was long and narrow, painted white and brightly lit. Erik blinked against the light, allowing his eyes time to adjust to the abrupt change, his heart pounding with urgency. Charles needed help NOW. For all he knew, it might even already be too late.  
   
Logan had similar thoughts. "HANK!" Logan shouted. "GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE BUB!"  
   
In an eye blink, a tall young man in green flannel pajamas - hardly older than a teenager - appeared in the foyer, blinking sleepily and setting glasses on his nose. His eyes widened when he saw Charles, pale and bleeding, in Erik's arms.  
   
"F-follow me," Hank stuttered nervously, turning and hurrying to another room. Erik ran after him, struggling to keep up. Kid was faster than he looked. He followed him through a short maze of rooms and hallways, barely taking note of them, before they arrived at a sparkling clean, brightly lit, mini hospital, whose walls were lined with examination tables and various medical and lab instruments.  
   
Erik gently set Charles down on one of the examining tables and stood back, eyeing Hank with some skepticism. "Are you a doctor?" he asked, protective ire in his tone. He certainly wasn't going to be touching Charles if he wasn't competent. He wasn't sure he trusted Logan's judgment on this, either. He seemed like a “put a bandage on and call it good” kind of guy.  
   
Hank met his gaze, eyes widening in fear at Erik's expression. "I - I - I -" he stuttered, unable to form words.  
   
"S'okay, bub," Logan assured Hank. "If he tries anything, I'll gut him."  
   
Erik glanced at Logan in consternation before refocusing on Hank, who took a few deep breaths and gathered himself to answer. It seemed to require a lot of courage on his part.  
   
"I'm not an official doctor due to my - my -" he couldn't quite seem to spit out the word, gesturing vaguely, shakily, to his feet. Erik glanced down and noted they were abnormally large. So, he was a mutant. "But I have studied extensively, and treated many - before this, so - so -"  
   
"He's trying to say he would have graduated from Harvard with honors if he'd been human," Logan explained to a still dubious Erik.  
   
"Well, get on with it, then," Erik urged. Hank wasn't doing any good standing there, gaping like a fish at him.  
   
As Hank started his work, he seemed to relax a bit and gain confidence. At least he appeared to know what he was doing. "What happened to him?" Hank asked quietly in the midst of examining him.  
   
"He was in Shaw's head when I - shot him," Erik admitted hoarsely, so remorseful he could barely get the words out. "He's a telepath."  
   
"Seriously? Don't you know what kind of effect that has on a telepath? Especially an untrained one?" asked Hank, scandalized, momentarily forgetting his nervousness.  
   
"I didn't," Erik admitted. "I don't know anything about mutants, much less telepaths. He tried to tell me, but I didn't - listen."  
   
Hank moved a wand like instrument over Charles, looking at the results on the screen. He took Charles's clothes off, visually examined him, took temperature and blood pressure, listened to his lungs with a stethoscope, and drew blood. He cleaned the blood from his mouth and ears and nose, looking inside those places with a tiny light and magnifying glass.  
   
"He threw up shortly before he collapsed," Erik informed him, in case it was relevant. "At the time I thought he did it on purpose - he said he can do that - but now I think he saw something in Shaw's mind that upset him. He looked terrible afterwards, not like when he'd done it before on purpose."  
   
Hank acknowledged him with a look and continued his examination, bringing out a few more instruments Erik didn't recognize, probably due to his determination to avoid doctors and hospitals at all costs.  
   
"He's in a coma," Hank informed them quietly after a few more minutes. "Good-good thing you rushed him here immediately, or he might have-have died. As it is, I have my work cut out. Now I need everyone to-to-to leave."  
   
Before they could, though, Amy Wallis appeared in the doorway, her normally cheerful, bubbly countenance replaced by a mix of alarm and anger. She asked, "Will someone explain just what is going on?"  
   
Hank tried to explain, but stuttered so much that Logan stepped in. "Erik killed Shaw, according to plan. Charles was in Shaw's head when he was shot, and fell unconscious. Not according to plan."  
   
"Is he okay?" asked Amy impatiently, clearly still frustrated with something, eyes shifting to Charles's pale, prone form.  
   
"He's comatose," stated Logan.  
   
"No! Poor thing," said Amy, a little bit of the attitude she usually had creeping back into her voice.  
   
"I- I-" started Hank.  
   
"Bub wants us to clear out," Logan interpreted. From his tone, Erik gathered Logan often did that for Hank.  
   
The three of them filed out, Erik very reluctantly. Amy led them to a small sitting area just down the hall, done up in bright, cheerful colors. Erik sat across from her on one of the couches. Amy's gaze was uncharacteristically unfriendly.  
   
"You're the local leader of the mutant resistance movement," Erik stated more than asked, fishing for confirmation.  
   
Amy nodded reluctantly. "If it was up to me, you would have never come here. You would have never known what I was really up to. I don't trust you," she said bluntly. "You are on Charles's side, yes. But you are not committed to the mutant cause."  
   
Erik could not deny this, but felt her distrust was unwarranted. "I won't betray you."  
   
"That may be, but now that Shaw is out of the picture, we no longer have a common enemy. If it served Charles's interests, I have no doubt you would place him above the cause. Isn't that right?"  
   
Erik had nothing to say.  
   
"He's comatose, and who knows when or how he's going to come out of it. What are your plans now?" Amy pressed.  
   
"It's none of your business," snapped Erik angrily.  
   
"I'm sorry, but it is. Too many people are depending on me to just let you walk out of here without knowing what kind of danger you may pose."  
   
Erik glared at her, but relented. "I hadn't thought about it," Erik admitted. It had all happened so fast. He contemplated for a moment. "I plan to retrieve Raven," he concluded finally. That was what Charles would want. "She's in America. New York, to be exact."  
   
"What if she isn't for sale? What then?" asked Amy.  
   
"Then I'll use any means necessary," stated Erik grimly. He looked at Amy suspiciously. "How do you know who Raven is?"  
   
Amy shifted, face contrite. "Now, you mustn't be angry. But Charles and I have been speaking telepathically. Logan has been in contact with him too, following you ever since you left Moira."  
   
Erik stared at her in confusion, heart sinking, feeling a little betrayed. "Why didn't he tell me?" He glanced at Logan, who shrugged.  
   
"He didn't tell you about me because I asked him not to. I made it a requirement of me helping you. As for why he hid the fact that he asked Logan to follow you and help you with Shaw, I have no idea," explained Amy.  
   
Suddenly Erik's eyes widened, facts clicking together, and he lunged at Amy, wrapping his hands tightly around her neck. "YOU! YOU'RE A SPY OF SHAW'S!"  
   
Logan, who'd been sitting quiet and bored through the exchange, rushed over to intervene. "Drop her, bub!" He unsheathed his claws, extending them threateningly towards Erik's face.  
   
"Shaw knew you were there!" Erik said, rushing to explain. "He told me you were hiding underneath the dock! She could have told him during the meeting she had with him!"  
   
Logan snorted. "If she is a spy, she's a very bad one. Why would she inform on me, but not Charles's abilities, which were obviously a much bigger threat?"  
   
Erik frowned in consternation, but let her go, seeing that Logan might have a point. He was rattled, upset, not thinking clearly. He needed to take a step back and reassess things. Too bad he didn't figure that out earlier, he thought bitterly. He sat back down.  
   
Amy caught her breath, but looked less shaken than Erik expected. "I didn't tell him about Logan. I don't know how he could have found out," she insisted, looking anxious.  
   
"He's dead now, no worries," said Logan, sitting back down.  
   
"But how did he find out about you? That is still something we need to find out. Are you sure you don't have a tracking chip?" Amy asked Logan.  
   
"Kayla said she took all chips out of me," said Logan with finality.  
   
"We'll just have to keep our eyes open, then," said Amy. "Maybe if Charles wakes up, he'll be able to tell us what he saw in Shaw's mind, and give us some kind of idea." She huffed out a short breath.  
   
They sat there for a few more hours, too tired to talk much, too tense to sleep, waiting for Hank to come out and give them an update.  
   
Finally the nervous young man appeared in the doorway, wringing his hands and gathering his breath, struggling to speak.  
   
"What is going on?" Amy asked, gentler than Erik had ever seen her.  
   
"I, uh," Hank started. "I concluded that - his, uh, problem - isn't physical. His injury is - is - is - t-telepathic only."  
   
"What does that mean? Can you fix him?" asked Erik, lounging back, trying to make himself less intimidating. Unfortunately, with Hank's knowledge he'd just killed someone dangerous, it was a rather impossible task.  
   
"I - uh - " Hank gaped speechlessly. He looked pained, dreading giving an answer.  
   
"It's okay, Hank," said Amy, smiling patiently.  
   
"I think - only another - t-telepath - can..." Hank gestured to his head helplessly.  
   
Logan, familiar with Hank speak, translated for Erik. "He thinks Charles will only be able to wake up if another telepath helps him." When Logan glanced at Hank for confirmation, Hank nodded.  
   
"And what if we can't find one?" asked Erik, alarmed, glancing between the two of them.  
   
Hank, completely losing his ability to speak, just shrugged at first. After several seconds, he managed to say, "Not - good. Organs will sh-sh-shut down, eventually."  
   
"No!" Erik exclaimed in horror, standing up, finding it difficult to breathe.  
   
Hank flinched and backed away several feet, shaking. "S-s-s-sorry!"  
   
"Stand down, Erik," said Amy. Her tone revealed that she was used to giving out orders.  
   
Erik sat down, his thoughts whirling in horror. "But how will we find a telepath? Abilities aren't registered! He'll die!"  
   
"I agree that it isn't looking good, but we'll figure something out. Thank you, Hank, you may leave," Amy dismissed him.  
   
Hank scampered out in the blink of an eye.  
   
"I must apologize for Hank. I've tried to instill confidence in him, but it's slow going. When he first came here, he was a bit like Charles, not speaking at all. He was a lot less confident than Charles, though. Even now, he is. It is quite a shame, because he really is quite brilliant. He invented the chip deactivator, did you know that?"  
   
Erik shook his head, distantly feeling a new respect for Hank, while is mind continued to scream, _Charles is dying, Charles is dying..._  
   
"Think I'll show him to the bedrooms, Amy," Logan interrupted gruffly.  
   
"All right," she said, standing up. "Good night. Don't leave, for now. I will go out in the morning and see what the situation is. The last thing we need is for you to get arrested, Erik." She gave him a pointed look before smiling sympathetically. "Try to sleep, okay?"  
   
She left the room. Logan stood up, and Erik followed him. Before they got far, a teenage boy wandered into their path, blinking stupidly. Erik noted the red hair and stoned expression. Must be the screaming mutant.  
   
"I thought I heard raised voices. Who are you?" he asked Erik.  
   
"He's Erik. Go back to bed, Sean," said Logan. Sean nodded and wandered off to who knows where. "Surprised he woke up. Kid sleeps like the dead."  
   
Erik followed Logan into a simple, white room with a dresser, mirror, and a single bed. "Here's where you'll be staying," Logan informed him. He walked out, adding, "Be right back."  
   
Erik sat down on the bed wearily, head in his hands, waiting for Logan's return. _Charles is dying._ His breaths hitched softly.  
   
He wiped at his eyes and straightened when he heard Logan's heavy footsteps approaching. Logan’s arms were quite full, and he set down the items one by one: Erik and Charles's suitcases, two packs of beer, and, of all things, a helmet.  
   
Erik stared at the helmet blankly.  
   
"Filched it from Shaw's meeting room while you were doing your James Bond routine," Logan explained.  
   
"That's his anti-telepathy helmet," Erik realized, remembering what Amy had said, in warning, apparently.  
   
"We'll study it. Find out how it works. Could be very useful," Logan speculated. "Might even put me in Amy's good books again." He picked up the packs of beer, setting one next to Erik, obviously intending it for him, then sat next to him on the bed, opening the other one for himself. Distantly, Erik felt touched by the gesture.  
   
They were silent for a minute while Logan downed his first beer. Then Logan broke the silence. "Know how you feel, bub."  
   
Erik turned to him in question.  
   
"Losing your other half. Blaming yourself because of the circumstances."  
   
Erik opened the pack and took out a beer, opening it with a pop.  
   
"Her name was Kayla. Beautiful Canadian woman." Logan downed another beer. "After the Holocaust was long ended, I got captured. Tried to chip me, suppress my abilities, but it didn't work. So eventually I got transferred to one of Shaw's facilities, where all the problem mutants go. She worked at the one I was sent to as an undercover mutant sympathizer."  
   
Erik's full attention was on Logan now as he finished his first beer.  
   
"They kept me there for several months, maybe some years for all I know, doing experiments. During that time, Kayla helped me any way she could and planned my escape. That was no easy task. Shaw, for some reason, valued me above all the other mutants there, keeping me sequestered away. Only himself, Kayla and a scientist were allowed access to me. He did, occasionally, show me off, but those times were few and far between. During all this, Kayla and I fell in love."  
   
Erik started his second beer.  
   
"She got me papers to pass as a human, somehow. We don't know how she managed it. Even Amy has not been successful with doing it for mutants." Logan downed another beer. "She was a very intelligent woman. She removed the chips implanted in me, including tracking devices. Then, one day, she successfully broke me out."  
   
Logan went silent, looking atypically lost.  
   
"What happened?" Erik asked, though he was fairly sure of the answer.  
   
"She died getting me out," Logan answered, unwilling to go into specifics. Erik, knowing how he felt, didn't blame him.  
   
They sat in companionable silence, Erik feeling an unlikely kinship with Logan, any previous thoughts of jealousy fleeing his mind. Though Erik was exhausted, he could not even begin to shut his mind down enough to sleep, and Logan did not seem the least bit tired, so they drank the rest of the night, swapping stories, Erik getting totally smashed and Logan, despite drinking the entire pack, got only slightly tipsy. Finally Erik passed out, Logan snoring loudly beside him.  
   
Erik woke to the sound of laughter that was much, much too loud. Logan continued to snore loudly.  
   
"Oh my god, you two are just so adorable right now," said an annoying voice he belatedly recognized as Amy's. "I should take a picture!"  
   
"Go away," he said grumpily, attempting to open his eyes. The pain and nausea prompted him to snap them shut again, flinging an arm over his eyes for good measure. He shouldn't have tried to keep pace with Logan last night. Now he was paying for it.  
   
"I'm sorry but, I really need to talk to you two," Amy informed him. "I'll go get some water and pills for you."  
   
Erik made a hand gesture of, 'be my guest.'  
   
Amy returned much too quickly. Erik reluctantly eased his eyes open. Amy handed him a pair of sunglasses, which he slipped on gratefully. Erik wondered, in bemusement, if this was the reason Howard wore sunglasses all the time. He downed the cold water along with the pills, his pounding head gradually easing.  
   
Amy shook Logan awake, using a great deal of force. Apparently it was warranted, because even then, it took a minute before his snores eased and he sat up, blinking blearily. Sean wasn't the only one who slept like the dead, then. He yawned. "What's the emergency?"  
   
Amy crossed her arms, strangely reminiscent of Moira. "You two said you killed Shaw last night."  
   
"He did. I watched," confirmed Logan, perking up all too quickly. Erik suppressed a jealous glare even as he continued to cringe at the too loud voices.  
   
"Well, everyone seems to be under the impression he's still alive."  
   
Erik frowned in confusion, his head starting to throb again.  
   
"You killed him on the boat, right? Not the sub? With a gun?"  
   
"I shot him in the head on the top deck with my gun," said Erik, feeling a bit like this was some comically backwards game of Clue.  
   
Amy frowned, expression disturbed. "I've been investigating this all morning. No one seems to know about it, and the sub is gone! I even risked taking Sean out to check, and he could not detect it anywhere in his range. There is no BOLO out for Shaw's murderer, no talk of it, no sign. Everyone is convinced that everything is status quo. If he was dead, his sub crew would HAVE to know and be raising hell about it!"  
   
"I shot him," said Erik with conviction. "I know it was him!"  
   
"It was," Logan agreed. "He was dead and we left his body on the deck."  
   
"It had to have been him," Erik repeated desperately, unwilling to consider anything else. "Charles was in his head - he would have known, and said something immediately!"  
   
But Charles hadn't told him about Amy or Logan. Could he have been hiding something about this, too? But Erik couldn't believe he'd withhold something so important.  
   
"Charles told me they needed help with Shaw a few minutes before he collapsed. He believed it was him," Logan agreed.  
   
"SOMETHING odd is going on, and I don't like it!" Amy exclaimed. "I thought allowing you to go through with your plan would be a step forward. Now it's just made things more complicated!" Her eyes flashed in exasperation.  
   
All this shouting hurt Erik's head. All he wanted was to go back to sleep.  
   
"I'm going to continue to go digging. In the meantime, I must ask you to stay put."  
   
Erik nodded. Right now, he had no problem with that. Logan left, and Erik lay back down, eventually passing out again.  
   
He woke again in the evening, feeling marginally better. Though he knew it wouldn't do Charles any good, he dragged himself out of bed to see him, weaving his way back to the mini hospital area.  
   
Hank was there, monitoring Charles, unaware of Erik's presence. Erik marveled at how calm, confident, and composed the boy was when he believed no one was watching. He truly did look like he knew what he was doing. Erik regretting revealing his presence, upsetting him, but he did want to talk to him, as difficult as it might be. 

“Hank," he said softly, lingering in the doorway before moving slowly into the room, trying not to make any moves that could be considered threatening.  
   
Hank jumped a mile in the air, confidence shattering as he cringed away from Erik. Erik held up his hands to show that he came in peace. Hank couldn't seem to speak, such was his surprise, so Erik continued. "How is he doing?"  
   
"S-s-s-same," Hank choked out.  
   
Erik wondered what Hank believed he would do to him. Then again, knowing what Charles went through, maybe he didn't want to know. "How -?" Now, it was Erik that found it difficult to speak. "How long does he have, before - his condition is irreversible, even for a telepath to fix?"  
   
Hank frowned. "Hard to say," he said, relaxing slightly. "Maybe - uh -" he stuttered, thinking. "Uh, three weeks?"  
   
He looked desperately unsure of himself, but Erik knew this was likely because of his lack of social confidence, not his expertise with medicine. His heart sank. How was he supposed to find a telepath in three weeks? He would have to leave, immediately, despite Amy's wishes, if he was to have any chance of success.  
   
Another thought occurred to him. "If I was to bring him his sister, would that help him?"  
   
Hank frowned again, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose nervously. "Been known to help," he admitted. "But that was in - with - a - n-n-normal comas. Human."  
   
"Thanks, Hank," Erik said, smiling wanly. He'd take whatever hope he could at this point. He exited the room, lost in thought.  
   
He ran into Logan a few minutes later as he searched for the kitchen. Logan showed him the way, and they sat down together, eating dinner. Erik eyed his companion, considering his options. If he needed to remove Raven from her current owners by force, it would be better not to work alone, especially if Raven did not understand he meant her no harm. He decided to risk letting Logan in on his plan. "I can't stay here," Erik started.  
   
Logan looked at him knowingly. "Didn't think for a second you would, bub," he replied.  
   
Encouraged, Erik continued. "I'm going to America to retrieve Raven and look for a telepath along the way. I want you to come with me."  
   
Logan frowned thoughtfully. "Amy will be pissed," he said, but, by his tone, didn't seem too bothered by that fact. "She likes to strategize, weigh options. She won't like us running off like this after she told us to stay."  
   
"Will you come with me?" Erik asked him directly.  
   
Logan looked at him contemplatively for a moment, then said, "Sure, kid."  
   
Erik threw him a dirty look. "Don't call me that. You can't be that much older than me."  
   
Logan snorted in amusement. "Kid, I'm eighty years old."  
   
Erik stared at him in shock.  
   
"Because of my mutation, I'm practically immortal. Dunno if I'll ever age."  
   
Erik huffed an incredulous laugh, unsure if Logan was pulling his leg. He decided to drop the subject for now. "I want to leave as soon as possible."  
   
"Just let me pack," Logan agreed. As he waited for Logan, he washed all of his clothes and left Charles's things with Hank. On impulse, he took Charles's empty suitcase and snuck the helmet in it to take with them, just in case he needed it for some reason.  
   
When Logan was ready, Erik took a private moment to say goodbye to Charles, smoothing the dark hair away from the pale face. He swooped down and planted a lingering kiss on the cool lips, caressing his cheek with his thumb. He blinked back the wetness in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Charles," he whispered, wondering if he would indeed last the three weeks, or whether this would be the last time he saw him alive. If he failed, it would be. Standing here, however, guaranteed failure. With that thought in mind, he walked out the door resolutely.  
   
Time to start his journey to America with Logan.


	14. America

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this will be the last mutant with speech problems. Lol

Chapter 14: America  
   
In Annandale-on-Hudson, New York, there stood a grey two story house in a modest, peaceful neighborhood. Few people ever saw inside it, however. The Greys liked to keep to themselves. The mysterious reason they did was once cause for much speculation for their neighbors. Now, few gave it little thought, having long accepted their determination to keep to themselves.  
   
Inside the house, acceptance of their self-imposed ostracism had not yet come.  
   
"Honey, we've just got to do something about Jean," said John Grey as he sat at the wooden breakfast table with his wife, Elaine, face lined with worry.  
   
"But what? Nothing we've done has worked!" Elaine responded in anguish.  
   
"We haven't tried sending her to school. I think that if she made new friends, she would get past losing Annie and her sister."  
   
"It's too risky!" Elaine insisted. "What if they discover her abilities? It's difficult enough hiding them as it is, just homeschooling her!"  
   
"We can't lock her up forever! That's no way to live life." John frowned angrily, poking at his eggs with his fork.  
   
"Being enslaved isn't a good life either," Elaine shot back fearfully.  
   
Just then, a little red headed girl with a sad, lost expression wandered into the room, effectively stopping the argument.  
   
"Hey, Jean, honey. What would you like for breakfast?" Elaine's eyes were soft and fond as she smiled at her daughter.  
   
Jean didn't respond, just went over and sat by her mother. John got her a plate of eggs and bacon and set it in front of her with a smile. "I've got to get to Bard. Have a good day, okay, honey?" John told Jean.  
   
Jean smiled sadly at her father as he left.  
   
Elaine put an arm over the back of Jean's chair while she ate. "Your father and I are discussing sending you to school. But you probably already know that, don't you?" she said gently. "What do you think? Do you want to go to school? Play with other kids?"  
   
Jean shrugged and continued eating.  
   
Elaine wrapped her arms around Jean, setting her head on her little shoulder, and tried not to cry. She loved her little girl so much. How could the world reject someone so beautiful, just because she could read minds? If only there were a special school for gifted youngsters like her. Then, maybe, she'd hear Jean laugh again, and talk like she used to. Before Annie died.  
   
Before Shaw came.  
   
******  
   
 _She was in the middle of a smoke filled bar, trying to find the exit. If she could just find Erik, she'd be safe. But no matter where she looked or how hard she fought to get through the crowd, she just couldn't find him!  
   
"ERIK! PLEASE! WAIT! Where are you?" she called out, starting to panic. "PLEASE, LISTEN TO ME!"  
   
She found his gun, smoking on the floor. She tried to pick it up, but it was unbearably hot to the touch. Pain exploded in her head. "Erik, I love you, why aren't you here?" Someone grabbed her and forcibly dragged her away, but no matter how hard she fought, she couldn't get free._  
   
Amy awoke with a jerk. Ever since she'd discovered that Erik and Logan had left the night before, she'd been feeling unsettled, but she'd chalked it up to the fact that they'd left so rashly before she could gather all the facts and make a good plan with them.  
   
This was more than that. This wasn't the first time Logan and others had been rash, and while it had caused her anxiety it had never caused nightmares of this caliber. Her thoughts drifted to her new, telepathic guest.  
   
Could he be projecting?  
   
It made sense. She'd never had those feelings about Erik, but she knew Charles did. He certainly was defensive and protective of him, and trusted him. Not things she necessarily felt herself, though she did think Erik was pretty cute - in both looks and behavior - at times. Too bad he was so volatile and gay.  
   
She got up, deciding to visit Charles and see if Hank had those test results she asked him to work on yesterday. She found the young scientist carefully putting away the expensive lab equipment she bought for him.  
   
"Hank?" she said gently.  
   
Hank tensed a little and turned around, shoving his glasses up the top of his nose nervously.  
   
"Do you have the results?"  
   
"Y-yes," he said. "I tested the swab of dried red substance you found on the Caspartina, and it is indeed human blood. However, there are anomalies in it that lead me to believe that it belonged to a mutant."  
   
Amy shifted back, a little surprised. "Really? Are you sure it's not Charles's? He came in here, bleeding."  
   
"No, I compared it against his and it is not a match," Hank explained. "I also compared it against - against Erik's, and it wasn't his, either."  
   
"How did you test it against Erik's?" She also wanted to ask why, but years of experience with Hank cautioned her from overwhelming him with questions.  
   
"Swabbed the saliva on his beer cans," Hank informed her a bit sheepishly. "I compared the DNA, and it was not a match. However, studying his saliva also leads me to believe he is a mutant."  
   
"Really?" Amy questioned. Logan had mentioned the possibility, but she did not take it seriously. She liked solid proof.  
   
"Yes, the cellular structure was quite fascinating. I've never seen anything like it."  
   
"Thanks, Hank." Amy sighed. "At least now we can rule out possible telepathic illusion. SOMEONE was shot there a couple nights ago. I just hope it wasn't some kind of decoy, a shape shifting mutant or the like." That would certainly be a devastating mistake, though she would think Charles would have caught it. Perhaps, if it had been a shapeshifter, it had a way of fooling telepaths? "Well, I'm going to continue investigating. You just keep him stable, all right?" she said, gesturing to Charles. "Ask Sean to help you if you need it."  
   
Hank nodded and moved to the other side of the large, pristine room. Amy smiled softly and combed Charles's hair away from his face in a motherly, affectionate manner, thinking of the nightmare. "I don't know if you can hear me," she whispered. "But Erik is away, retrieving Raven. He'll be back." She did not feel as confident as she sounded, however. She recognized survivor's guilt when she saw it, and Erik had it in spades. Even if everything went well, she had no idea if he still would feel that he could have a relationship with Charles, or whether he’d stay away in some kind of misguided attempt to protect him. Either way, at least she would be there for him.  
   
She removed her hand, eyes soft. This was why she was here. Helping mutants. She would never forget the day she found a girl, enslaved only because she could change her eye color on command. It struck Amy that she wasn't so different from herself. So she'd come to realize, that it wasn't abilities that defined people, but their choices. Thus she became a double agent, continuing her service to Shaw but secretly helping mutants whenever she could. It seemed she had natural leadership abilities, for it wasn't long before the chain of safe houses scattered across the map looked to her for leadership. It was a stressful job, but she wouldn't trade it for the world. This was her calling. This was how she would make a difference.  
   
She only hoped Logan and Erik knew what they were doing.  
   
****  
   
Long evening shadows blanketed the white sidewalk as a jet lagged Logan and Erik trudged wearily to the front door of a two-story house in the suburbs near the Hudson River.    
   
Erik turned to Logan, exhausted and dead on his feet, but determined. He could not delay. Every second that passed lowered Charles's chances of survival. "I'll do the talking. With luck, they'll just let us buy her."  
   
Logan gave a short, careless nod.  
   
Erik rang the doorbell. They waited for a minute, and finally the door opened.  
   
A tall, black haired, muscular man opened the door. He glanced between the two of them. "I'm not buying," he said, then shifted to close the door.  
   
Erik grabbed it before he could close it all the way. "No, but I am," he said.  
   
The man stopped, interest peaked. "Oh?"  
   
"Yes," confirmed Erik. "Mr. John Grey, I presume?"  
   
The man gave him a confused look, brow furrowed. "Who?"  
   
"John Grey. Or Elaine Grey," said Erik. At the continued blank look, he pressed further. "How about Raven Darkholme?"  
   
"I think you have the wrong address," said the man.  
   
"No, this is the address I found at the library for the Greys. It was the latest edition of Consumer Reports." Erik showed him the address on a piece of paper.  
   
"Well, that's this address all right," confirmed the man, scratching his head. "Let me ask my wife. Maybe she knows something."  
   
Erik and Logan were left standing on the first porch, feeling frustrated and uneasy.  
   
The man returned a few minutes later. "My wife recognized their names. We bought the house from them. Must never have updated their address. Unfortunately, I have no clue where they moved to. Sorry. Have a good night." With that, the man shut the door in their faces rather rudely.  
   
Erik and Logan exchanged a glance.  
   
"Look, bub... Let's call it a night," Logan suggested.  
   
Erik nodded dejectedly. But, all was not lost yet. They could ask around town about the Greys. Surely someone knew who they were and were they'd gone.  
   
Yet, over the next few days, they learned that this wasn't the case.  
   
No one seemed to know who John and Elaine Grey were. They were not listed in any phone book or public directory. To make matters worse, the mutants Erik managed to question weren't telepaths and didn't know anyone who had that ability. But Erik refused to give up, questioning people by day, drinking away his sorrows at night, trying to forget those blue eyes, trying to ignore the empty place beside him that Logan could not begin to fill.  
   
When Erik wasn't questioning people, he and Logan were scouring local papers and magazines at the library in hopes that the Greys were mentioned somewhere. As the stack in front of him got taller, Erik felt increasing hopeless. Without a lead on the Greys, how would he ever find Raven?  
   
As he scanned the latest paper, his eyes were drawn to a headline: "WSC Debate Draws to a Close." Erik, remembering the article he read weeks ago, read on with a mix of curiosity and alarm.  
   
 _After weeks of debate, the strongly divided World Slave Council has finally found a compromise. This was, in no small part, due to the recent unfortunate escape of the mutant some call "Juggernaut," who proceeded to take many innocent lives before his recapture. In light of this, William Stryker received permission to reinstate the death penalty for the most dangerous of mutants that are kept in the government facilities. In exchange, he agreed to abandon his sterilization campaign, at least for now. We expect Juggernaut to be the first on Stryker's list, followed by the rest of the mutants held detained by the government. The UN leader, President Alfonso Kuran, will sign it into law later this week._  
   
A red haired college kid sat next to him at the table in a hurry, dropping his bag of books down none too gently. "Sorry!" the kid hissed at Erik's irritated look for the interruption. Ginger did a double take at Erik's mountain of papers. "You know, if it's the town history you're interested in, you might want to check out the South wing - "  
   
"I'm not interested in history," interrupted Erik brusquely.  
   
"Right now, I wish that I weren’t either," Ginger groaned. "If I don't have this paper done by tomorrow, Professor Grey is going to -"  
   
Erik was on Ginger, standing up and gripping his arm so fast, the poor kid nearly fell out of his chair. "Your Professor is named Grey?" he demanded, interrogation habits taking over.  
   
"Uh, yeah," Ginger said, his eyes huge. "Um, could you let go of me?"  
   
Erik let go and eased out of his space, eyes still intent on him. "Is his name John? Does he have a wife named Elaine?"  
   
"Yeah, his name is John. Don't know his wife's name, though now that you mention it, it might be Elaine. Or maybe it was Elizabeth," the kid babbled nervously, hoping to appease him. "I was in his office, you see, and he was talking on the phone, and- "  
   
Erik made a negating motion with his hand, cutting him off. "Where does he live?"  
   
"I don't know, I don't stalk my professors," Ginger objected.  
   
"But he's a professor? Where?"  
   
"At Bard. Why do you want to know anyway?" The kid frowned suspiciously.  
   
"He's an old friend," lied Erik.  
   
The next day, Erik stood outside of the doors to Bard while Logan sat waiting in the car. With the help of a few students, Professor John Grey was easy enough to spot. Erik took note of the car John drove, and within minutes he and Logan were following him at a discreet distance. They'd decided not to confront him at Bard in case he refused to sell. This way, they would get invited inside the house and be able to scope it out in the event they needed to take Raven by force.  
   
They arrived near the house several minutes later, only a few miles from the wrong address they'd been given in the first place. The house and neighborhood did not seem that much different from the first. Erik wondered, then, what prompted them to move.  
   
When they decided enough time had passed to ease any suspicions, Erik and Logan approached the door. Erik's excitement mounted. Of course, there still was the chance that this was the wrong John Grey, but somehow, Erik doubted it. Somehow, he could feel this was the right place.  
   
He knocked on the door, heart beating in anticipation, though none of it showed on his face.  
   
A middle-aged woman with long black hair greeted them at the door. "Hello, is there something you need?" Her eyes looked a bit red rimmed, like she'd been crying.  
   
"We have a business proposal," Erik said.  
   
"Sorry, but we're not buying," she said politely, moving to shut the door.  
   
"No, I'm the one that wants to buy," replied Erik with a sense of deja vu.  
   
"Well, all right," she said. "Come in, I'll get John. I'm Elaine, by the way. Elaine Grey."  
   
"Erik Lehnsherr, and this is James Howlett, but he likes to be called Logan," Erik introduced, smiling broadly in relief when he heard her name.  
   
Erik and Logan were ushered into a nicely decorated living room, and they sat down on the couch, waiting. Erik stared at the fireplace to his left contemplatively. John Grey came in the room shortly, and he settled down with his wife on the couch across from them.  
   
"Hello, I'm John," he introduced himself, shaking their hands. "Elaine tells me you want to buy something from us. The house?"  
   
"No," Erik said. "I'm interested in buying Raven."  
   
John and Elaine tensed slightly, and Erik took note. "She's not for sale," said John firmly.  
   
"I assure you, I am willing to pay top dollar," insisted Erik.  
   
"Sorry, but no," said John with finality. "Is that all?"  
   
"May I at least see her?" asked Erik. He didn't even know what she looked like, and he didn't want to kidnap the wrong person.  
   
"No," said John. "I never allow her visitors. How did you find us, anyway? What do you want with her?"  
   
"I have my sources," said Erik, deciding that sounded more impressive and threatening than the fact he bumped into one of his procrastinating college students.  
   
John and Elaine exchanged a quick, reflexive look of terror. Erik caught that too. Clearly, they were hiding something.  
   
Were they mistreating her? It certainly seemed a possibility with their behavior and the fact they didn't let anyone see her. If that was the case, Erik did not want to leave Raven here another second. He owed Charles that much, and more. Besides, they had been delayed enough. It would be two on two, and he and Logan were armed and experienced fighters. Good odds.  
   
"I don't ask for favors," said Erik, repeating something he'd once heard Shaw say, smiling viciously. "I express my expectations." He drew his gun, and in a flash, Logan did the same, pointing them at the terrified couple. "You will lead us to Raven. You will release her to us. Then, we will leave peacefully."  
   
Such was the fear on their faces that Erik did not expect what happened next. "NO! YOU WON'T TAKE HER!" John roared, lunging at the pair of them. Elaine leaped to support, fists clenched, face pale.  
   
Erik didn't want to kill them; still, he was prepared to, if necessary. He twisted out of the way, cocking his gun. Logan did the same, shoving Elaine to the floor. John, having landed awkwardly on his side in the middle of the couch, drew back to slam his fist into Erik's face, heedless of the danger.  
   
Before he could, though, the voice of a little girl interrupted. "STOP!"  
   
Almost involuntarily, everyone froze, their fight forgotten.  
   
Elaine was the first to react, picking herself off the floor. "Jean?" she said, in wonder and disbelief.  
   
Taken aback, Erik and Logan couldn't help but turn to the newcomer, wondering what could have arrested Elaine's attention to the point she forgot the guns pointing at her. John stood up beside his wife, staring.  
   
A young, redheaded girl walked up to Erik fearlessly, gaze locked with his. Something about her expression sparked recognition in Erik. Just as the possibility began to form in his mind, she spoke again, resting her hand gently on his knee. "You're sad," she said to Erik.  
   
Erik lowered his gun, and Logan did the same. John and Elaine continued to stare at Jean with shocked expressions.  
   
"Jean?" Elaine repeated, as if she couldn't believe her eyes.  
   
"Don't be sad," she said to Erik, gaze still locked with his disarmed, disbelieving one.  
   
"What do you see?" asked Erik, as if in a trance. He could feel her presence in his mind.  
   
"Your mind is a box," she said. "A metal, unfriendly, sad box."  
   
"Oh my god," sobbed Elaine.  
   
Erik glanced at her as she hugged her husband, burying her face in his shoulder. Then he returned his attention to Jean. "You can read minds." His head spun, rapidly attempting to reassess the situation. Once again, he'd jumped to the wrong conclusion.  
   
"It's just a figure of speech she uses -" John started, trying to explain it away. Logan interrupted him by unsheathing his claws.  
   
"No worries, bub," he assured him. "We ain't sayin' nothin'."  
   
John and Elaine stared at Logan's metal claws in shock. Jean barely glanced over, unsurprised, most of her focus still on Erik.  
   
"Why don't you stay for dinner, and we'll talk," suggested John after an awkward minute.  
   
Erik met his gaze, his mind still trying to catch up with how quickly things went from friendly to violent to friendly again. He gave a short nod.  
   
"I'll get everything ready," said Elaine, leaving for the kitchen, but not before she gave Jean a hug, saying, "It's so wonderful to hear you speak again, honey.”  
   
John settled back down in the chair, off to the side. Erik wondered, rather belatedly, why he didn't show more concern over his daughter entering such a threatening scene; then again, if she had any of Charles's abilities, perhaps such concerns would be unfounded anyway. "Why do you say my mind is a box?" Erik asked her.  
   
Jean crawled onto his lap fearlessly. Erik set his gun on the table beside him, clicking the safety back on, so that she would be comfortable. He held her gently, smiling kindly.  
   
"There's something trapped that wants out," she explained simply.  
   
"Can you free it?" asked Erik curiously. This would be a good test of her abilities. He would volunteer to be the guinea pig, not Charles. He had already started to plan ways to get this little girl to Europe, though his mind still spun in confusion about their reaction to his inquiries about Raven. They were obviously accepting of mutants, so what was really going on?  
   
She smiled shyly and touched her fingers to his temple.  
   
Erik's hand dug into the armrest, gasping sharply. Jean's presence in his mind differed greatly from Charles's. Charles had seemed to consume him, entering and leaving erratically. Jean was much more direct and focused. Something in his mind melted, expanded, squirmed loose. His awareness changed, heightened, Logan's presence especially lighting up in his mind.  
   
The room abruptly faded. Instead, he found himself outside the closed city gates in Dusseldorf, Germany, when his mother had been arrested. He reached desperately for the metal. It groaned, groaned, groaned. He was doing that. _He was doing that._ It had been him, all along. Moira had been right -  
   
A flare of panic, of anger, swelled up, but Jean's voice breathed: It's okay.  
   
Erik let it all out with a long breath. The gates burst open, revealing the events of that day exactly as Moira had described to him in the park. He felt Jean's little fingers leave his temple, and his awareness returned to the room.    
   
But it wasn't the same room as he'd sat in before.  
   
This room was full of metal, real to him more powerfully than it ever had been before. He blinked a few times, trying to settle his thoughts, to adjust to the immense power unleashed in him. He thought back to the metal gates opening without him touching them, and then felt for a penny under the couch.  
   
A moment later, the penny floated in the air in front of Erik and Jean, with all four of the room's occupants staring at it in wonder.  
   
"You doin' that bub?" questioned Logan, intrigued.  
   
Erik took his eyes off the penny, meeting his partner's eyes for a moment. Overwhelmed, unable to speak, he simply called it to his hand, making that his answer, returning his gaze to the copper in his hand.  
   
When he looked back up, Jean was smiling at him brightly.  
   
"Elaine!" called John urgently.  
   
"What?" said Elaine, rushing into the room. "What is-?" then she caught sight of Jean. "Oh, honey," she said in delight, smiling and blinking back tears. She turned to Erik. "You know, I haven't seen her smile or speak like this in ages. Who did you say you were again?"  
   
"Erik Lehnsherr," he responded. She seemed to want more of an explanation than that, so he continued. "I'm here visiting from Europe. I thought I was human, but your little girl has just revealed to me -" he held his hand up, floating and weaving the penny through his fingers, "this."  
   
"Still doesn't explain the Raven situation," commented Logan, wanting to return to the task at hand. Erik, thoroughly derailed, had almost forgotten about it.  
   
"Dinner's ready. Why don't we all just talk about it over the table?" Elaine suggested. She glanced at the gun, then back at Erik. "Consider explaining yourself first, next time, and asking nicely. You might be surprised at what people will do for you," she scolded him.  
   
A few minutes later, they all sat eating at the dinner table. Jean had insisted on sitting next to Erik. She kept glancing at him shyly, and he smiled gently at her, feeling something protective well up in his chest.  
   
His now overpowering sense of metal drove him to distraction, destroying his usual sense of singleminded focus, so he did not start conversation right away, more than preoccupied with new questions. How did his mutation escape Shaw's notice, and his own, after all these years? He eyed the silverware, bright in his mind, giddy at what he could now do.  
   
"So, Raven," spoke up John finally, interrupting him. "Why are you looking for her?"  
   
"Her adopted brother is injured, and we thought she could help," explained Logan.  
   
"Why the theatrics?" John pressed.  
   
"Logan is trying to save face for me," Erik admitted. "The truth is, he's dying, and it's my fault. He's in a coma. We thought - hoped - that Raven's presence might draw him out of it. Save him. We don't have much time before it will be - too late." Reality returned to Erik full force. He might have discovered new superpowers, but even they might not be able to save what was precious to him.  
   
John and Elaine stared at him, horrified.  
   
"I can help," whispered Jean, placing her little hand over Erik's large one. Erik met her gaze, hope welling up in him. Now if only her parents would agree.  
   
John and Elaine glanced at each other, not having heard Jean's offer. "Raven isn't here," Elaine admitted. "Hasn't been for years."  
   
"What?" said Erik, not expecting that. "Who has her, then?"  
   
"Shaw."


	15. Magneto

Chapter 15: Magneto  
   
"Shaw has her?" Erik repeated, horrified. "And you just let him take her?" His voice rose in anger with each successive word.  
   
"It wasn't that simple," John responded, eyes flashing furiously.  
   
"I think we should start at the beginning," Elaine pointed out. “It was several years ago that we first met Raven. Her owner back then didn't treat her very well, believing himself superior. All I saw was a young red headed girl, much like the one I dreamed of having. John and I bought her, but not to have as a slave. We wanted to raise her as our own child, as much as we could under the circumstances.  
   
Time passed, and we had our own biological red headed little girl. Jean didn't manifest when tested, thankfully. In fact, she never showed any sign of mutation until her friend Annie died when she was hit by a car that narrowly missed Jean. Jean was very traumatized and depressed after that incident. It was Raven who figured out what was going on. She said she'd had an adopted brother who was telepathic, and Jean confirmed that is what she experienced.  
   
John and I were terrified for her. We didn't send her to school, homeschooling her instead. We thought we'd be able to hide her. But, it was not to be.  
   
One night, Sebastian Shaw came to our door, demanding to see Raven. We didn't want to give her up, especially with his reputation. Jean figured out what was going on and tried to help, too young to really understand the consequences of her actions. I think she tried to manipulate his mind. Well, Shaw caught her at it. He told us that he would be taking Raven with or without our cooperation, since he had the legal power to do so. If we ever breathed a word that he had her, to anyone, even one of his own men, he would chip Jean and take her away too. If we kept his secret, she could go free. He assured us that Raven would be well treated, but of course, we didn't know if we could believe that."  
   
"There was nothing we could do," John said. "He took her that night. Jean was devastated to lose her older sister and withdrew into herself. Using some resources Shaw provided us, we made ourselves disappear and limited our social life, so that no one would ask questions about Raven, or find out about Jean."  
   
"It worked," Erik said. "You were not easy to find."  
   
"How did you?" John asked.  
   
"Bumped into one of your history students," explained Erik, somewhat sheepishly.  
   
"You have 'sources,' huh?" John mocked.  
   
Erik huffed a laugh in response.  
   
"So you have no idea where Raven could be?" asked Logan, trying to get them back on track.  
   
"None. Shaw refused to give us even the slightest hint," Elaine said sadly. "We've not heard hide nor hair of her ever since."  
   
Erik allowed the new information to sink in as he finished his dinner. He'd been so confident he'd find Raven, and so doubtful about the telepath, and here, the opposite had happened. He felt cold at what could have possibly happened to her. Lost in thought, he idly levitated a spoon, twirling it in a lazy circle before having it zoom to his hand.  
   
A short giggle made him turn to Jean in question.  
   
"You're like a giant magnet," she explained with a shy smile.  
   
With a crooked grin, Erik began calling all kinds of metal within easy reach, spoons, forks, spare change, and the like - and having it stick all over him in hilarious ways. Jean giggled harder and harder as he continued his antics. Erik's smile grew teeth, broad and playful. In the corner of his eye, he saw Elaine dabbing at her eyes as she watched her little girl laugh. Even John looked a bit teary.  
   
Logan just snorted. "You look ridiculous, bub," he informed him, causing Jean to giggle even harder.  
   
In retaliation, Erik had forks 'grow' out of his knuckles like claws, grinning mockingly at Logan.  
   
"You look just like him!" laughed Jean in glee.  
   
"Very funny, kid," replied Logan, with no real rancor in his voice.  
   
Jean's giggles subsided, and Erik lowered everything back to the table.  
   
"He's Wolverine," said Jean, catching her breath, "And you - you should be, Mr. Magnet. No," she said, changing her mind, "Magneto!"  
   
Erik smiled and raised his eyebrows.  
   
"Reading my mind, kid?" said Logan. "Haven't heard that name since Shaw had me."  
   
Jean suddenly went shy. She seemed strangely intimidated by Logan in a way that she wasn't by Erik.  
   
"S'okay," assured Logan. "But I prefer to keep my thoughts to myself. They ain't pretty."  
   
Jean nodded, biting her lip nervously.  
   
They cleared off the table and settled back in the living room. Erik contemplated how to best bring up the subject of Europe, but in the end, decided blunt was best, saying, "As you know, Raven's brother is in a coma."  
   
John and Elaine focused on him, listening intently.  
   
"The mutant doctor who checked him out, Hank, had more confidence that a fellow telepath could bring him out of it than Raven. I know that - "  
   
"You want us to take Jean to him," concluded John, face neutral.  
   
Erik gave a short nod, lungs tight.  
   
John exchanged a glance with his wife. "Well, I could always ask for temporary leave from work," he mused, considering.  
   
"You would not have to pay for any of it," Erik jumped in. "I can easily cover the expenses."  
   
"Just where is he, exactly?" asked Elaine.  
   
"A coastal town in England," said Erik. "At a safe house for mutants."  
   
John and Elaine exchanged another glance. "Jean, honey, would you like to do it?"  
   
Jean smiled brightly and nodded shyly.  
   
"All right. I've always wished we could do something for Raven's brother, but we couldn't afford it. Now here is our chance." Elaine smiled regretfully.  
   
"When should we meet you at the airport?" asked John.  
   
Erik dropped his gaze, chest clenching. "I'm not going with you," he said.  
   
"What are you going to do, then?" Logan inquired.  
   
"I-" he began, swallowing through the thickness in his throat. "I'm going to look for Raven."  
   
"Raven can wait a few more days," said Logan. "Don't you want to see for yourself that he recovers? Then you could look together. Much easier with a -"  
   
"No," insisted Erik. "You go on ahead. I'll call you to see if it worked." He couldn't face Charles after what he'd done to him. He'd proven himself dangerous to those he cared about. Charles would be better off without him around.  
   
Logan regarded him intently. "Just where do you plan on starting to look?"  
   
"Government facilities Shaw had access -" started Erik.  
   
"Had?” John said sharply.  
   
Logan cut in before Erik could answer, stating, "Shaw might have died a week ago."  
   
"Might have?" John prodded again. Jean's confidence with them made him trust them, but that didn't stop him from being vigilant.  
   
"I shot him," Erik admitted. "But according to Amy, who works as a double agent, everyone believes that he's still alive, which makes us believe in the possibility of some kind of ruse. When Charles - wakes up, you'll know more."  
   
"You shot him?" repeated John in shock.  
   
"I had my own grievances with him," explained Erik darkly.  
   
John and Elaine both looked rather taken aback at this. Logan decided a redirect was in order. "Point is, bub, I've been in those facilities. You won't be able to get in there alone. Even with your magnetism," he said in response to Erik's skeptical look. "I'm going with you."  
   
Logan and Erik stared each other down for a bit, a stubborn set to each of their jaws. Finally Erik gave a careless nod of assent.  
   
"I'll give you the contact information for Amy Wallis," said Logan, turning back to the couple. "Don't be fooled by her public face. She has Charles in her basement. In fact, can I use your phone?"  
   
John gestured to where the phone sat in the kitchen. Logan walked over to it and dialed Amy’s number. Erik wanted desperately to take the phone and demand to know how Charles was doing. Instead, he waited, eyes and ears intent on Logan.  
   
*********  
   
Amy sat on a treatment table by Charles, contemplating what to do. She was certain he was projecting his distress; ever since Erik left, nobody had been themselves. Even Sean seemed more stoned than usual. Amy had long suspected he regularly somehow bribed Hank into whipping him up some drugs, but she'd never caught him at it. For all she knew, it was just his personality.  
   
Hank entered the room, carrying the fresh batch of medical supplies she'd secretly procured for him. She smiled at him. "How is Charles doing?"  
   
Hank glanced at her nervously. "Deteriorating quicker than I'd- I'd originally estimated," he said glumly.  
   
Amy's eyes widened in concern.  Her own attempts to find a telepath had been rather futile, and she still hadn't heard from Logan or Erik. "How long does he have now?" she asked, heart sinking.  
   
"A week at the very most," said Hank. "However, it could be much less than that, if his stress keeps increasing."  
   
Before she could react, she heard the phone ring upstairs. "Sean, can you get that?" she shouted as loud as she could.  
   
She heard the pounding of feet and the ringing stopped. Sean's voice was too low to hear, but a minute later, he walked up to her. "It's for you."  
   
******  
   
Erik and the Grey family listened attentively as Logan explained the situation to Amy. Once she understood what was going on, John spoke with her, making arrangements for their trip. Then he gestured for Erik to come to the phone. "She wants to speak with you."  
   
Erik walked over and picked up the phone. "Amy?"  
   
"Erik. How are you holding up?”  
   
"Think we should give him privacy," Logan suggested astutely. They filed back into the kitchen.  
   
"Fine," responded Erik flatly. "How is Charles?"  
   
"Not good," said Amy. "He's been projecting stress- Hank thinks he won't last much longer."  
   
"Jean will be on her way soon," said Erik, stomach dropping in anguish. "He'll hold out until then, won't he?"  
   
"We're hopeful, but Erik, I've been sharing his nightmares with him. I'm not sure how aware he is, but I think he knows you're not here. He would really benefit from hearing your voice. Will you talk to him?"  
   
Erik suddenly found it hard to breathe.  
   
"I know you're conflicted, but just trust me on this one, okay? Just talk to him."  
   
"Okay," Erik acquiesced. 

A few minutes later, Amy came back on. "I'm going to press it to his ear for a minute now, okay? I won't listen in," she promised.  
   
He heard the phone moving for a few seconds before the noise stopped. Erik swallowed again nervously, wondering what he could possibly say, or if Charles would even realize he was speaking to him. "I - I'm sorry, Charles. I should have listened to you. It's my fault you're like this." He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. "I miss our time together. Logan understands, but it isn't the same. I miss waking up to you in the morning. I miss hearing your voice in my head. I miss your delight at every new experience. I miss your impishness. I miss..." Your blue eyes, your smile, your gentle understanding... "Hold on, okay?" He swallowed. "Jean uncovered my abilities with metal. I'm a mutant. Did you know?" A fission of anger spiked through him before he quelled it. Had Charles seen it and hid it from him? Still, Erik continued, "I'm going to find your sister. She was taken by Shaw. She'll need you when I get her out. Just hold on for her, Charles."  
   
He heard the phone move, and Amy's voice came back on the line. "I think he knew you were talking to him. I feel better already," she said. "I'm sorry I can't give you more time, but international calls cost an arm and a leg. I know Logan said you're going after Raven, but come back soon, okay?”  
   
"Maybe someday," said Erik vaguely. "Thanks for taking care of him."  
   
"It's no problem. Goodbye, Erik.”  
   
"Goodbye." Erik hung up the phone, taking a moment to get his roiling emotions in check before joining the others in the kitchen. As he entered, he remembered again one difficulty he needed to solve. "Do you have pictures of Raven?"  
   
"Yes," said Elaine, going to get them. She came back a few minutes later with a handful of photos.  
   
He did no need to ask which one was her, studying them carefully. The Greys had undergone the expense to have color photos, for which he was grateful. Raven was a young, red haired girl with blue, scaly skin and yellow eyes. He passed them to Logan. "What was her ability? Do you know?"  
   
"We were never able to deactivate the chip, but she told us she could shape shift completely into another person," said John.  
   
Erik took careful note of this. If Shaw had forced her to use her ability for his purposes, she could look like anyone. He would have to be vigilant.  
   
"How old is she?" Logan asked.  
   
"We don't know. Raven didn't even seem to know for sure," Elaine replied.  
   
"We think that she's probably at least twenty by now, though," mused John.  
   
While John and Elaine were occupied with Logan, Erik took Jean aside quietly, kneeling down in front of her so they were eye to eye. Gently, he asked, "Do you know why – and how – my abilities were boxed up?” He gestured towards his head with his index finger invitingly.  
   
Jean narrowed her eyes in concentration, giving him that 'seeing right through him' look that had become so familiar, first with Charles, and now with her. "I see something, but I can't reach it," she said in petulant frustration.  
   
Erik thought she must have that frustration often at her age. She was so small! "It's all right," smiled Erik. "I'll find out some other way." He carefully drew her into a hug. "Thank you."  
   
Jean knew what he meant. "You're welcome," she said brightly.  
   
John and Elaine caught sight of them, and smiled, clearly thinking it was really cute.  
   
Erik turned towards them, unembarrassed. "If you don't mind, I'd like to meet you in the airport parking lot tomorrow to see you off. There's something I want Jean to test for me."  
   
John and Elaine looked at each other. "All right," said John. Jean did not seem bothered, so whatever he had planned must be no big deal.  
   
*******  
   
As planned, Erik met the Greys in the airport parking lot the next day. 

Jean, knowing already what he was going to do, waited patiently as he took the helmet out of one of his suitcases and put it on his head.  
   
"Read my mind," Erik requested.  
   
Jean narrowed her eyes and unconsciously clenched her fists with the effort, giving it her best shot. After a minute, she relaxed, giving up. "It works, I can't see anything," she assured him.  
   
He took it off and put it on her head. "How about now? Can you use your abilities?"  
   
The helmet was ridiculously oversized on Jean. She had to grip it tightly with both hands to keep it in place. After a tense minute, she struggled to get it off. Erik, seeing this, gently lifted it and put it back in the suitcase.  
   
"No. I couldn't see anything with it on," Jean said.  
   
Erik knew that she meant both literally and telepathically. "Good," replied Erik, curiosity satisfied. That would be useful to know. It might come in handy sometime. "Have a good trip."  
   
"I will. Goodbye, Magneto," she said with a shy smile, giving him a tentative hug.  
   
He gently wrapped his arms around her. "Goodbye, Jean."  
   
The rest of them said their goodbyes. When Erik and Logan were alone again, Logan turned reproachfully to Erik. "Didn't know you filched the helmet, bub. Didn't show in the metal detector. I had a hard enough time getting through with my metal teeth fillings cover story."  
   
"It's not made of metal," said Erik. "At least not the kind I can manipulate. I thought it might be useful," he explained.  
   
"Amy didn't know about it yet, anyway," Logan mused, dropping the subject.  
   
They got into the car and started driving back to their hotel. Erik pointedly took the driver's seat. Getting used to American driving was unnerving enough without Logan behind the wheel.  
   
"Didn't want to say it in front of the Greys, but I've seen Raven before," admitted Logan.  
   
"You have?" asked Erik in surprise.  
   
"Didn't know she was Raven until now, of course. Shaw threw her in with me for a few days. Poor girl was terrified out of her wits and completely miserable. Seemed relatively unharmed, though. Must have been right after she was taken from the Greys. After that, Shaw took her away to who knows where, and I escaped shortly after."  
   
"What facility? Where was it?" She was most likely long gone, but it would be a start. They might get a lead, at least.  
   
"Not far from here," grunted Logan, clearly reluctant.  
   
 _Not far from here._ Those words triggered the memory of the false address for the Greys, no doubt planted by Shaw. As the truth dawned on him, Erik exclaimed, "The man we talked to when we first came here must be a plant of Shaw's!"  
   
Logan perked up considerably, liking where this was leading - away from that facility. "Right on, bub."  
   
Erik hastily whipped the car around to head to that first address. He parked the car a discreet distance away and took out his binoculars. "Looks like the door has been broken in." He frowned in confusion, exchanging an alarmed glance with Logan. "Vandalism?"  
   
"Think we're not the only ones after Raven, bub," said Logan.  
   
Erik hated to jump to that conclusion, but he had to admit it looked suspicious. "Let's find out," he decided.  
   
They got out of the car, walking silently to the house. Logan used his superior hearing to attempt to discern what was going on inside. "Bub, it ain't pretty," he said after a few minutes.  
   
"What?"  
   
"I don't know who they are, but they want Raven. Guy is refusing to talk but I don't know how long he'll hold out before he spills about the Greys."  
   
"We can't let that happen," said Erik in determination, quickly coming up with a plan.  
   
Logan made a gesture as if he was unsheathing his claws. "Gut 'em?" he asked, a little too eagerly.  
   
"No," Erik said. He needed to protect the Greys, and find out why these men were looking for Raven, and they couldn't accomplish that until he knew more. "We'll give them something else to look for." 

He turned and ran back to the car, tearing open his suitcase without explanation. However, soon enough, his intentions became clear as he made a red mask out of one of his shirts with a knife, and made a matching red cape with a blanket, obscuring his form and face. "After this, they won't be asking for Raven. They'll be asking for Magneto," he said ominously. He opened the other suitcase and put the helmet on his head, and put on his tallest boots to give himself more height. With all of this on, it was unlikely they would recognize him out of his costume.  
   
They strode back to the house. "You stay outside. You'll be my ace in the hole if I need it," said Erik. "But I don't think I will."  
   
Logan shrugged and nodded carelessly, obscuring himself in the bushes, ears intent on the house. Magneto surged through the damaged door and followed the sound of angry, interrogating voices to a large bedroom.  
   
The black haired man was shackled to the bed, bleeding from several gashes on his body. Standing over him were three masked men holding knives and guns.  
   
"You have no idea what you're turning down," one of the masked men hissed, brandishing a knife to make another cut. "What is she to you?"  
   
"I don't know, I don't know," he groaned in response, becoming a bit incoherent from the pain.  
   
Magneto knew that the man was lying. There was no way he didn't know anything. Shaw must have offered him something spectacular to gain this much loyalty. Either that, or he truly believed in Shaw's cause. Either way, he needed to make sure he didn't reveal anything to these men. If it meant a temporary alliance, then so be it. "Drop your weapons," said Magneto in a deep, dangerous voice, getting their attention.  
   
"Who are you?" the shortest one, closest to him, demanded. "A circus escapee?"  
   
Magneto ignored this insult. "I do not ask my favors. I express my expectations." That was becoming a favorite line of his. "Drop your weapons, or I will drop them for you."  
   
All three men turned to him, pointing their weapons at him threateningly. One man asked, "You and what army?"  
   
"As you wish," said Magneto with a menacing shark grin. He didn't have the greatest control yet, so his disarming of them was rather graceless, but no less startling to the masked men, who took a step back as Magneto pointed their weapons back at them, floating in midair.  
   
The interrogator recovered, then grinned. "I'll fix that," he said, taking a PMS device out of a bag by the bed, flipping a switch, and tossing it near Magneto. When the weapons didn't waver, the masked men tensed visibly. Even Erik was surprised, though pleasantly so in his case.  
   
The helmet must do much more than block telepaths. He would certainly wear it as much as possible, then. He recovered quickly, deciding to use this new development to his advantage. "You have no idea who you are dealing with," he threatened. "What little you must know of Shaw's plans, to not know about me.”  
   
"You're Shaw's?" Incredulous, Shorty spoke up, fearful yet also a bit skeptical.  
   
"You don't recognize the helmet? You must be lower on the totem pole than I thought," Magneto taunted.  
   
Their eyes widened in recognition almost simultaneously. Magneto grinned in triumph, knowing he'd scored a point. "He guards these quite well. No one would get one unless he gave it to him. You know this."  
   
"Then you should know that it is Shaw's desire to procure Raven," the third man said.  
   
Erik fought to keep his expression neutral, though it was not very necessary under the mask. Were these Shaw's men? Had Shaw hidden Raven from everyone? That fell in line with what the Greys said. If that was the case, were these men from the submarine, pretending that Shaw was still alive, in some sort of bid for power? That would explain both why no one had reported Shaw's death, and why they wanted Raven, a shapeshifter, so very badly. The timing was about right, too, if they had headed here immediately after they left England. Or were they bluffing about their connection to Shaw, just like he was?  
   
No. They were telling the truth, he decided. They really believed he was a secret agent of Shaw's. They wouldn't lie to someone as dangerous as him with such a large risk of being found out. They simply must not know that Raven was already in Shaw's clutches, even without him there to enforce the continued secrecy. Which meant she must be hidden exceedingly well. Magneto thought about how he could use this to his advantage.  
   
"I don't believe you. It is MY mission to find Raven. And I will do that far quicker than you ever could." He could not ally himself with these men. He couldn't trust them, and it was too risky, no matter how convenient it would be to pool their resources. "That is clear, if you are still questioning this pathetic human, who knows nothing." He didn't know if he did or not, but he wanted them to believe it. "You're wasting your time here. And mine."  
   
The interrogator asked, “Why are you here, then?”  
   
Magneto thought fast. "That is a personal affair. All work and no play makes for a very dull boy, don't you think? In fact," he added, his voice going dangerous again, "I'm put out that you damaged him so severely. It's ruined my fun." He undid the handcuffs binding the homeowner with his mind, and inched the weapons closer to the masked men. "So you can make it up to me by letting him have his way with you, or you can leave and quit tampering with my mission."  
   
Apparently they found his explanation of being gay very believable, for they lost interest in questioning him and refocused on the potential danger to their sorry selves. "Or, I could always make it look like a triple suicide," threatened Magneto. He wanted them to leave the house quickly so he could decide what to do with Mr. Homeowner. "With an active PMS device sitting here with your fingerprints on it, no one will suspect a mutant's manipulation."  
   
"All right, we'll clear out," the second man agreed. "But this isn't over."  
   
"I should hope not.” Magneto grinned as the three filed out the door, weapons nudging them along in midair. Mr. Homeowner watched wide-eyed from the bed, clearly wondering if he'd been saved from one batch of tormentors only to gain another.  
   
Magneto followed them out and watched as they hurried down the street. Once they were out of earshot, he spoke to the bushes where he knew Wolverine hid. "Follow them. Tell me where they go. If any of them tries to come back here, kill them."  
   
"Can do, bub," came the quiet reply, sounding all too pleased with the plan.  
   
Satisfied, Magneto reentered the house to take care of the remaining man. There was a chance he knew where Raven was, but the more he thought about it, the more he doubted it. Shaw clearly wanted her whereabouts to be top secret, only known to those who needed to know. This man didn't need to know, so he probably didn't. Still, even if he wasn't going to question him himself, he didn't want to leave anything to chance.  
   
He gathered some towels, bandages, and antiseptic from the bathroom and brought them to the still bleeding man. He squashed the painful memories of Charles this produced, determined to focus on the task at hand. The man, weak from the loss of blood, just stared at him as Erik cut away his bloody clothes and tended to his wounds with surprising gentleness. He didn't, after all, betray the Grey's, whatever his motivations might be, and for that, Erik felt he deserved his help. "I would suggest you make yourself scarce as soon as possible. More men might come looking and questioning, and I won't be here to save you a second time." He made sure to keep his voice deep so the man wouldn't recognize him from when they first met.  
   
"Who are you?" the man asked, gazing at him with a strange mix of gratitude, skepticism, and condescension. “Superman?"  
   
Erik looked up at him with an ironic smile. "No. I prefer Magneto."


	16. Onward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been forever. My only excuses are other writing projects I needed to finish and this chapter gave me a lot of trouble. Thanks to usakeh for helping me with it! :)

Onward  
   
Erik hastily discarded his Magneto garb in the car. Now that he was done making sure the injured man was all right and intended to flee, he wished to track down Wolverine. With his powers, it was a rather easy task to pick out his moving metallic skeleton. Erik debated, then stuffed the helmet back in the suitcase, trading it for his binoculars. Logan most likely had things well in hand. He just wanted to see what was going on.  
   
He wove his way through the streets, the rushing of the Hudson River growing louder and louder as he approached. Logan was creeping alongside it. The trio had thus had enough sense not to turn back – to Logan's disappointment, no doubt.  
   
Erik caught up with him, tugging at his arm briefly with his power to get his attention. Logan turned. "Bastards jumped into a blow up raft," he explained. "Been trying to follow them, but I'm no swimmer."  
   
Erik nodded in understanding. It would be nearly impossible with all that adamantium. He picked up his binoculars and focused down river, where he could see the three men disappearing from sight around the bend. "This supports the submarine theory," mused Erik.  
   
"Or they could just be making themselves more difficult to follow," Logan said, clearly miffed about his one weakness.  
   
Erik sat a moment, removing his binoculars. If they were headed for a sub, it would be difficult to track them once inside. Even with his ability, he was bound to lose them sooner or later.  
   
Even if they weren't what they seemed, would pursing even be worth it? His main goal was to find Raven before they did, and they clearly had less of an idea of where she was than he did. While confirming the truth about them might be helpful, it wasn't necessary to his mission.  
   
"We'll let them go for now," Erik decided. "Our priority right now is to warn the Greys." Then he could find out how Charles was doing. "Let's head back to the hotel and give Amy a call after their plane is scheduled to land."  
   
Logan nodded and followed him back to the car.  
   
In their hotel room, Erik did his best to occupy himself by experimenting with his newfound abilities. He practiced with his gun, clicking the safety on and off with just his power, and levitating it, getting used to aiming it without looking. He wished he could practice shooting, but that was obviously a bad idea right now.  
   
Bored, he told Logan he'd go shopping and, while he was out, would pick up another pack of beer. Logan grinned and turned on the TV.  
   
Erik got the beer first so he wouldn't forget it. He certainly didn't want to deal with a pissy Logan. Next, he stopped at a hardware store, followed by a crafts and clothing store, picking up metal with which to practice and items he could use to improve his costume. On his return, Logan slapped him on the back happily and accepted his beer.  
   
He turned serious, though, as he settled back down on the couch. "They're going to start the executions tomorrow, bub."  
   
"Of the mutants in government facilities?" Erik asked, alarmed.  
   
"Yes."  
   
"Raven could be one of them," Erik said agitatedly. From Logan’s expression, it was clear that he was thinking the same thing. "We've got to move as soon as possible."  
   
Logan nodded.  
   
With renewed purpose, Erik opened his purchases and began improving his red Magneto suit. He also attached metal pieces to his helmet so he could keep it on with his power if necessary. He took out several metal things he'd bought and set them on the floor, using them to find more creative ways to weaponize his power. His concentration wasn't that great. Anxiety about Charles ate away at him; the urgency of Raven's situation, however, still spurred him on.  
   
Logan watched his fumbling in bemusement as he downed another pack of beer. Erik did not indulge, despite his desire to numb his mind. "Think you can call now," Logan said.  
   
Erik gave him a look. Despite the empathy between them, Erik did not like having his sentimental side pegged by someone as macho as Logan.  
   
Logan snorted. "Bub, it's all you've been thinking about."  
   
Resigned, Erik sat down and made the call.  
   
"Wallis residence." It was Amy.  
   
"This is Erik. Have they arrived yet?"  
   
"Yes, they did, and Jean has already been with Charles. Hank's been monitoring him and he's gotten steadily better since then. He thinks he'll wake up in the next few days."  
   
"Good.” Relieved, Erik grinned. "Tell Jean that she should be proud of herself."  
   
"I will! She's talked quite a bit about you; I think that you have a fan.” Amy paused. “What should I tell Charles? He will ask about you, you know.”  
   
"Stay safe," Erik replied immediately. "Speaking of that, there is something you should know." He told them all about his encounter with the three men trying to find the Greys, and the possibility of them using a submarine, maybe even Shaw's.  
   
"About that," Amy interrupted, "I told Jean to find out what she could about his time in Shaw's mind. She wasn't able to pick up a whole lot, and it didn't make much sense. It was something about Logan and Raven being connected somehow.” Amy paused again. “That said, she was able to confirm that you actually shot Shaw. But what is really stunning is that she believes that he was a mutant himself!"

"What?" Erik said, startled. "He turned on his own kind?"

"I know, I can hardly believe it! So he either has an ability like Logan's, or he really is dead. Regardless, I'm going to take Sean out regularly now to watch for the return of the sub. Its reappearance is bad news either way. Somehow he was able to track Logan, which means that we're compromised somewhere. You need to be careful, too."  
   
"We'll be fine,” Erik responded.  
   
"No unnecessary heroics," Amy insisted.  
   
"Want to say anything to Logan?" Erik asked.  
   
"Only to keep out of trouble, not that it would do any good," she mused wryly.  
   
Erik huffed a laugh, silently agreeing before adding, "Thank you for what you've done for Charles."  
   
"No problem. It's what I do. I'll be hearing from you, right?"  
   
"If I find Raven.” Erik hung up the phone.  
   
"Glad he's going to make it," grunted Logan.  
   
Erik looked at him askance.  
   
"You're not pacing, and you had that million watt grin," Logan said.  
   
Erik nodded and sat down across from him. He refocused his thoughts on their efforts to find Raven, feeling newly energized and hopeful. "So, you know more than I do about that facility. How should we proceed?"  
   
*****  
   
Charles slowly came to in a dimly lit room, feeling very disoriented. He blinked. Something wasn't right; there was something he urgently needed to do. Limbs shaky and head woozy, he forced himself to sit up.  
   
To his delight, he still had his power. He reached out tentatively, subsequently feeling the presences of six other people in the house: Amy’s, Sean’s, and Hank’s, and that of Jean, who he vaguely remembered entering his mind earlier. The two other people he'd never encountered before; most likely, they were Jean’s parents.  
   
But where were Erik and Logan? The last thing he'd remembered was being on a boat with Erik, and Logan hiding underneath a dock as backup. Shaw had pointed his gun at Erik, and–  
   
What? Charles frantically tried to remember. Had Erik died? No. He'd frozen Shaw. Erik had fired the shot, not realizing that Charles was not practiced enough to shield himself from it, and Charles couldn't let Shaw go even for a second, lest Shaw incinerate Erik instantly.  
   
He did have vague impressions of what had happened in between then and now. Erik's voice. His strange, alarming absence. Jean appearing in a dream, telling him to wake up, informing him of everything she knew about Erik, including the fact that he and Logan were in America trying to find Raven. According to what he'd seen in Shaw's mind, however, she wasn't in America. Rather, she was in a shielded room on Shaw's sub, forced to perpetually be in Logan's form. Erik's newly revealed abilities would be indispensable in her rescue.  
   
He had to leave, _now._ He had to get to Erik, but not just for Raven's sake. He needed Erik. He needed to be with him, and Erik needed reminding of this.  
   
Charles slid off the table, taking in his surroundings for the first time, a sort of makeshift hospital room. It was oddly surreal to him, so reminiscent of when he'd first been chipped. Now he'd come full circle, awakening to freedom rather than slavery.  
   
How would he get to Erik successfully with his chip in place? His heart hammered with fear. Then, his eyes widened as he remembered Shaw’s plan.  
   
The horrific, twisted machinations of Shaw’s mind had made him lose his dinner. Shaw had first considered making the humans turn against each other, bombing each other out of existence. But the damage from that would wipe out the food supply. So he started investigating another plan, that of uniting the mutants against the humans. In the end, too many mutants were stubbornly protective of humans for that to work.  
   
So, he’d shifted to the third option: namely, the manipulation of the worst humans in power, creating conditions that even the most pro-human mutants wouldn’t be able to stomach. Once the ratio of mutants against humans was even enough, he would set the world takeover in motion, wiping out the human population within days.  
   
Shaw himself had designed the chip specifically for that end. When exposed to a certain frequency – a frequency Charles now knew – all of the chips would be permanently deactivated. To prevent chaos, Shaw designed a device he’d named Cerebro. When the time came, he would find a telepath to hook into it, and he would communicate with the mutants, organizing them.  
   
There was a separate frequency for singular permanent deactivation, which Charles planned on using now. He'd learned about it when Shaw thought about Logan, which was a story in itself. Shaw needed to find a way to explain his immortality, and bribe the governments into cooperation; he'd found solutions to both in Logan by faking the replication of an immortality serum with his DNA.  
   
Shaw changed his plans for Logan when he stumbled across records of Raven's abilities at the New York facility. He'd wanted a way to track the movements of the resistance, and what better long-term way to do it than by planting a tracking device in an immortal mutant?  
   
So he planted it in Logan's ribcage, then coated his skeleton in adamantium, making it virtually undetectable. He staged Logan's escape and Kayla's death. He permanently deactivated Logan's chip (which hadn't been very effective anyway) and had Kayla give him legitimate papers so he wouldn't get caught. With the real Logan gone, he forced Raven take on his appearance in order to continue manipulating powerful people by dangling the immortality carrot.  
   
With Shaw now gone, Raven's position grew potentially dangerous. Filled with even more urgency, Charles set to work with a transmitter in Hank's lab, unable to stop his hands from shaking as he thought about what he needed to do to get to Erik. He'd never been out on his own before, and he wasn't sure his control was enough. But it would have to be. He couldn't afford to wait for the others. They would just slow him down.  
   
Chip now deactivated permanently, he packed a small bag and scribbled a quick note for the others regarding his whereabouts, along with a summary of what he'd learned from Shaw. His unpracticed writing was quite sloppy, but he did his best to make it legible.  
   
He hid behind some trees in the darkness after exiting the house, heart beating fast as he scanned the passing driver's minds until he found one that would require minimal manipulation. He stepped out and sent a suggestion that the man should pull over.  
   
The young driver leaned out his car window, smiling. "Hey, need a ride?”  
   
"Yes," answered Charles without thinking, the word feeling very peculiar in his mouth and throat. Then shock set in. He'd spoken!  
   
"Well, hop on in.” The man's grin widened. “Name’s Riley. Where are you going?"  
   
"Airport," Charles eventually croaked, feeling surreal.  
   
"Great, that's just where I'm headed! What a coincidence!" Riley said cheerfully. "We'll be there in no time."  
   
Charles climbed in back, his bag clutched tightly in his shaking hands. He swallowed nervously as he shut the door. He was alone, venturing out on his own for the first time in his life. No turning back now. He attempted a few calming, deep breaths as Riley hit the gas.  
   
"Thanks," Charles whispered.  
   
"No problem, I like having the company," Riley assured him.  
   
As the initial shock of speaking again wore off, Charles unconsciously reached up and touched his throat. Whatever had been preventing him from speaking before had apparently been fixed when Jean had made contact with him, drawing him out.  
   
It seemed like, bit-by-bit, he was getting his life back.  
   
**********

Annoyed by the incessant pounding on the door that had been going on and off for what seemed to be several days now, Raven flipped through her books, curled up on her cot. She was overdue for some new ones. Shaw had promised her he'd get more soon, but she hadn't seen him for well over a week now. Not that she particularly cared what happened to him, but she did wonder what was holding him up. Up until now he visited her quite often. Her food and water still arrived regularly through the slat in the wall, at least.  
   
The sound of a drill replaced the banging. She looked at the metal door, eyebrow raised. Shaw never seemed to have any problems opening the door, but she'd made out the voices of three different men arguing about how to get in. Something strange was going on. She glanced around at the mirrored walls, her reflection looking back at her a hundred different ways, and set her book down, replacing it with her sketch pad.  
   
Drawing was one of her favorite activities because of the way it made time fly by. Being locked up in here had been quite difficult to get used to, especially after leaving the Greys. Now she was more or less resigned to it. She doubted she'd ever be able to escape, and hardly anybody cared about her enough to come looking. Those who did simply could not. She didn't want Jean to share her fate, and Charles was long gone. They hadn't known each other long. Maybe he'd even forgotten her.  
   
She didn't think her life was too bad, all in all. Other than being strictly confined and forced to accept yearly telepathic intrusion from a sympathetic Emma, reinforcing her compulsion to stay in that feral man's form, things were tolerable. She didn't know why Shaw forced Emma to do that, or about any of his other plans for that matter. Shaw refused to talk much about his doings beside a few vague hints now and then, and she rarely got a chance to speak to anybody else.  
   
However, Shaw was fairly kind to her and did his best to keep her entertained and even educated. In a twisted way, he was like a father figure to her, now that John could not be around. It was what it was and while she'd been sullen and angry with him at first, she'd gradually learned to accept her situation. She still mouthed off at Shaw on occasion, however, which did little more than amuse him.  
   
In fact, the only thing that really annoyed her anymore was Shaw's tendency to only supply her with outdated music. It was nothing in which most young women would have any interest. Truth be told, though, it was hard for her to think of herself as a young woman when she’d had the form of an older, muscular man for so long.  
   
"Fuck!" The drill abruptly went silent. "Fuck! Fuck!”  
   
"I told you not to drill there,” another man said.  
   
"Well you didn't have any ideas, did you, Mr. Mechanical Engineer? You can't even open a damn door!"  
   
"It's welded shut! We'll have to melt it,” objected the engineer.  
   
"We can't risk damaging the structural integrity. How are we going to shut it again if we do that?" Raven decided to name this third man Tres. "We have to keep at it with the wedge and sledgehammer.”  
   
After a tense silence, the banging resumed.  
   
**********  
   
Charles let out a breath as he settled in his plane seat. He'd made it this far with the use of mind tricks. The worst of it was over; he now just had to get through customs. Then he'd be back in New York, familiar territory. Still, he could not afford to fall asleep. Someone would realize he was out of place and he might not be able to correct it in time.  
   
He found a few American and English newspapers. He hadn't read much in years, but he still remembered how to do so with perfect clarity. He was not expecting to see a picture of his stepbrother on the front page of the American paper, however.

With mixed feelings, he read:  
   
 _The mutant known as Juggernaut was the first to be executed as the new law took effect yesterday. William Stryker is relieved that such a threat has been eliminated. "Everything is under control," he assured us. "Rumors of a band of pro mutant extremists attacking government facilities and freeing mutants are greatly exaggerated."_  
   
A man from across the aisle spoke, interrupting his thoughts. "What do you think of it all?"  
   
Charles turned to him, skimming the surface of his thoughts. He was a government agent named Levine. His job was just a job to him, no passion in it at all. In fact, lately, he'd doubted the rightness of it, which prompted the question. 

Charles chose his words carefully. "I think things are not as they seem, and that everyone reaches their breaking point."  
   
Levine held his gaze seriously and said, "They are dangerous." He believed what he was saying, but he lacked conviction all the same.  
   
"Everyone is dangerous, my friend," responded Charles wanly.  
   
"What is a government to do? They've got to do something," Levine insisted, feeling lost.  
   
Charles searched his thoughts before saying, "They can negotiate." Levine knew of a few loopholes in the law and his orders. He just hadn't thought of them yet as a solution.  
   
Levine's expression cleared. "They can at that," he agreed. As Levine turned back to the window, Charles caught him thinking of his quarry: a man rumored to have one of Sebastian Shaw's helmets, dressed in red, able to manipulate metal, accompanied by a rather crazed, feral man who knew no fear nor injury.  
   
 _Erik,_ thought Charles anxiously, _what have you gotten yourself into?_  
   
**********  
   
Emma lay on a cot in a tiny room, posture perfect, seemingly at ease. Abruptly, the door opened. She smoothly switched to a sitting position to greet her visitor, a relatively short man with red hair, wearing one of Shaw's helmets. 

"Justin. Have you finally decided to trust me?" Emma asked, faking a smile. Justin and what was left of Shaw's crew knew about her regularly scheduled interaction with 'Logan', and, in their determination to find out everything they could about Shaw and 'Logan' they'd found her and brought her aboard to question her. 

She'd told him part of the truth: namely, that Shaw made her use her telepathy to get 'him' to cooperate. Fortunately, when questioned separately, Raven had confirmed this without elaborating. This suited Emma, who was beginning to hatch a plan of her own. She believed in making the best of any situation, and this had real potential.  
   
"Follow me," Justin ordered her.  
   
Emma smiled and exited the room with him. They walked a short distance to a metallic door that appeared to have seen better days.  
   
Justin opened it, beckoned her through, then shut it firmly, their reflections on the strange mirrored walls looking back at them a hundred different ways. "Come here," he said. She cooperated, and he waived the pencil like device to deactivate her chip. "Now, do your thing," Justin commanded.  
   
"Oh believe me, I can't wait to get this over with," said Emma with a coy, suggestive smile, "And move on to more… enjoyable things.”  
   
Justin returned the grin cockily, totally buying it. _Pathetic_ , Emma thought distainfully. Men were just too easy to distract. 

She turned to the room's other occupant, a female shapeshifter forced to wear a man's form. Steeling herself, Emma dove into Raven's mind, not forcing her to cooperate like she'd told Justin, but sharing her conceived plan of attack. She tried to be quick and minimally invasive as she always did, not reading her at all, only communicating. Justin, unlike Shaw, wasn't a mutant and didn't know about her diamond form. He also didn't know that Raven was a shapeshifter.  
   
With luck, things would turn out just the way she wanted.


End file.
